Addiction
by love97
Summary: Lucy Sullivan knows she can do better. So she returns to NYC to her famous older brother, who takes her in and helps her live a better life. But a certain Brooklyn boy will remind her that certain people are addictions that can never be conquered.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The first thing that comes to my mind is nothing. I'm feeling, not thinking.

I'm feeling his hands gripping every inch of my body; his lips kissing all over my skin; and his hot breath on my neck when he roughly whispers to me. I don't need to think to know how this feels. I can feel it deep in the pit of my stomach and I know, innately, this is a mistake.

If I were thinking I'd know to get the hell out of here.

But I'm not thinking. So I stay. And instead I'm back to just feeling again.

Feeling for the straps of his suspenders and pushing them off his taut shoulders; feeling his hot skin after ripping the buttons of his navy blue shirt open; and feeling blindly for his hat and throwing it to the floor.

He kisses my neck, just below my ear, and all rational, logical thought is shot straight to Hell.

He's like a drug. You know the first touch won't be the last, and once you've had a taste of it, your body begs you for more. You _need_ it and it consumes you. Never mind fighting it because it feels so good once you're in it. You get caught in the haze quickly and it's paralyzing. You just stop thinking.

I feel his hands wrapped around my waist as he smoothly reaches for the zipper of my dress and pulls down. I feel my heart start to race, his neck slick as it rubs against mine.

I hear a round of knocks on the door -- fast, angry knocks -- and I feel myself break into reality. My eyes open for the first time. In an instance one of his hands flies to my mouth, covering it. His other hand remains frozen against my back, pressing into my skin so hard I can feel my racing pulse beneath his fingertips.

I close my eyes and feel, inside, the way addiction to a drug can break you.

* * *

**A/N:** Vague, I know. Thoughts? Feelings? Haha, I'm already making my own corny jokes related to my own story for my own self-centered enjoyment. WILL GIVE COOKIES TO REVIEWERS :)


	2. Bring the Pain

It's a high. When the body reaches a certain level of pain, an altered state of mind takes over. You are in trance. After being put through so much pain, there exists a surge of endorphins as the body reacts to the fight-or-flight mode it was in while enduring the pain. Lucy Sullivan had trained herself for this kind of situation. She saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing but a breeze in her mind. A perfect day in a perfect place, and she was free to do as she pleased.

_THUMP._

She winced at the painful new surprise. She quickly determined the thump against the back of her head was a book -- the Bible -- that had been used as a frequent weapon of Ms. Carrigan's. It was suddenly real again. She saw the wall before her, and heard the scoffs of the warden behind her. She still felt nothing in her hands. They were numb. But that was due to the fact that she had had to sit cross-legged, back straight, facing the wall with her hands plunged deep into a bucket of ice.

"Just think long and hard there, missy," ordered Ms. Carrigan, prowling up and down her office behind her before repeating with evil delight, "Think long and hard."

Lucy pursed her lips and a scowl grew on her face. She looked down, against her better judgment, and saw her bone-white hands wriggling minutely without feeling beneath cubes of ice.

Ms. Carrigan took a seat behind her desk, relaxing, and crossed her ankles atop a stack of newspapers. She gently set the Bible down and pulled out a matchbook and a cigarette. Lucy felt the anger in her stomach rise as she watched Ms. Carrigan out of the corner of her eye let the flame simmer slowly along the stick just before attaching it to her cigarette. The warden's icy grey eyes glared at the girl as the smoke left her mouth like a dragon. She longed for the reverie the pain had brought on.

"Think 'bout how your little hands feel now the next time you go droppin' all my plates in the kitchen," said Ms. Carrigan with authority. "Don't think I don't know it was a mistake, either!'

Lucy wasn't going to take it anymore. She shook her head and began to sit up, but her conscience warned her to stop. Ms. Carrigan straightened up at once, and smirked as she watched the fifteen-year old girl will herself to remain sitting.

"That's right, Sullivan, you stay there 'til I know you learned your lesson." She exhaled a puff of smoke. "Again."

Lucy had lost track of how many times she had been in Ms. Carrigan's office for punishment. She couldn't say this one was the worst, but Ms. Carrigan _was_ starting to get creative.

She bit down hard on her lip to try and control the pain in her hands, but it was no use. She thought her bones would crumble to frozen pieces in there. She subtly shifted her hands around and rested them against the side of the bucket, out of the water and away from the ice cubes. It was no use, though. Ms. Carrigan sat up once more and pointed, with her hot, smoking cigarette, to the icy depths of the water. She couldn't concentrate to catch that high again.

Lucy shook her head. Suddenly, like a force over which she had no control (nor ever had), she spat out, "When my hands fall off in here, Ms. Carrigan, I'll be sure to get someone else to carry this bucket out for ya. Wouldn't want ya to go through the trouble an' work an' all."

They glared at each other for a moment, the anger rising in both of them. Ms. Carrigan rose from her desk and stomped across the floor. She hoisted one of Lucy's arms up forcefully and positioned the burning end of her cigarette barely an inch above Lucy's bare skin.

"One more word outta you, ya little brat, and I'll --"

Ms. Carrigan stopped talking and stared at Lucy's arm for a moment. As if she had reached her ultimate limit, she viciously followed through with her threat and snubbed her cigarette out into Lucy's arm. Lucy jumped back, yelping, and yanked her arm from Ms. Carrigan's grip. Her left hand held the searing wound tightly, and the frozenness of it helped ease the pain. She lay in a ball on the floor, eyes squeezed shut and fighting off tears, as Ms. Carrigan ordered her to leave and take the bucket of ice with her.

The orphanage was completely dark as she left pushing the bucket along the corridor with her feet. The security guards paced up and down, commenting to each other behind their hands upon seeing Lucy, once again, making her way out of the warden's office after lights-out. She had come to know each of the guards now. After six years, it was quite easy to pick up on their names. Not only that, but she observed where they were positioned each night, and how they responded to situations. After all, her time here was coming to a close -- she needed to know how to properly escape their grips.

"Good night, sir," she said every night to the guard outside the sleeping room. His name was Charlie. He simply nodded in return, aware of Lucy's irony in her politeness. He knew full well of Lucy Sullivan. In fact, not a soul breathed in that orphanage that didn't know who she was.

She tip-toed over to one of the bunks on her way to her own. Crouching down, she gently nudged the girl's shoulder until she awoke. "Tick…_Tick_!"

The young girl rolled over and said sleepily, "What izit?"

"Didja get the paper yet?"

Tick turned to look back at the doorway. Charlie was facing the other direction, speaking with another guard from across the hallway. Tick rolled over and dug through a box of knick-knacks and trinkets under her bed. Lucy gathered her long brown hair to one side and began fingering through it anxiously. Tick rolled over again and handed her a copy of the _New York Sun. _Lucy's lips spread into a huge smile as soon as she looked at the picture.

"Which one is he?" asked Tick, leaning over her bed.

Lucy adjusted the paper so that it was visible in the moonlight from the window above them. The group of boys was large, but her eyes flew directly to the one in the middle, who stood centered and poised, a proud grin on his face. She pointed to her older brother.

"There. Jack Kelly," she whispered, glancing over her shoulder at the doorway. "Well, that's what everyone else calls him."

"What'd he do?"

"Oh, just led a strike against the newspaper god Pulitzer in New York. Just that," she said sarcastically, and Tick laughed.

The guards finished their conversation and Lucy hurriedly made her way to her bed. Just as she jumped under the scanty covers, the girl who slept next to her, Ginger, rolled over with the same excitement on her face as Lucy.

"Is it him, Luce?"

Charlie looked back into the sleeping hall and stalked in, looking at each side of the aisle and scanning the room for anyone out of line. Lucy waited until he was out of the room to whisper in response, "Tick got it! I'll tell you all about it tomorrow morning!"

Lucy tucked the newspaper safely under her pillow and rolled onto her side. Her arm stung against her sheet, and she was suddenly -- painfully -- reminded of the small, cigarette-shaped burn on her arm. It was fresh, still, and bleeding a little. She brought her cold hand to it and held it tight.

Ginger and Tick huddled around Lucy as she pored over the newspaper the next morning. Her bowl of mush resembling what oatmeal might look like sat cold and untouched next to her, as she read to herself, her lips moving silently over the words.

"So is it still goin' on?" asked Tick.

"The strike? Maybe. The paper's a week old."

"Sorry 'bout that." Tick stared dejectedly at her mush.

Lucy shook her head and finished the story. Ginger picked up the paper. She smiled at the picture and said, "Ya know, some 'a these boys is pretty cute."

Lucy laughed. So Jack had taken on the big guys. When she had heard from one of the chimney sweep boys a few days ago that there was a newsies strike in Manhattan, she laughed and dismissed the idea. She had been in Boston in the same orphanage for six years, and some of the things she had heard about New York were often false. Then a few days later, the boys said they were leaving their jobs to go down there in support of the strike, and that a boy named Jack Kelly was the leader. Immediately she knew the story was true, and that it was soon turn to legend.

"So your brother's in the middle?" asked Ginger. "_Nice_. Ya look like him, least from what I can tell. 'Cept your eyes are blue…" she looked closer at the picture. "His are brown, I think."

"Yeah, my mom had blue eyes. But ev'rything else we get from my dad."

"So your disregard fer authority, that's from yer dad?" teased Ginger. She gulped down a spoonful of mush, choking down the bland taste.

Lucy laughed and nodded. "Yeah, he's had a few run-in's with the law, we'll put it that way. Not to Jack, though. According to him, our parents are out West. He won't tell people my mom's dead and my dad's in prison. He gets the dreamin' thing from my mom. But I haven't seen him in six years, he could be different." She thought a moment. "Nah, I'm sure he's still Jack."

Lucy and Jack shared a unique quality of breaking rules, but when it came to down to it, both were different. Jack had always been an optimist, refusing to let anyone beat him, and he was free to dream as he pleased; and while Lucy believed she wouldn't let anyone get her down either, she preferred honesty over imagination. Nevertheless, she admired Jack's glass-half-full outlook; it obviously let him accomplish things like a strike.

"Any more 'a these guys yer brothers?" asked Ginger. "These two on the right…one's got an eye patch, the other's wearin' suspenders…Not too bad, Luce. Not bad at all!"

"Sorry, Ginge. Even if they were my brothers, ain't like I could introduce you to 'em anyway. We're a good distance from New York."

"You can always use that rebellious streak to escape, ya know," laughed Ginger. "Get us the hell outta here, how 'bout it?"

Lucy laughed at the absurdity. She dunked her spoon into her breakfast and, plugging her nose, was able to get down three gulps.

Ms. Carrigan entered the mess hall with a powerful entrance, swinging the door open. She turned up her nose as she stalked down the center aisle, her Bible tucked comfortably in the crook of her arm, and hair pinned up tightly out of her face. Lucy, at the far end of the hall, glowered in her direction.

"That from last night?" asked Tick quietly. She pointed to the burn on Lucy's arm.

Without taking her stare away from Ms. Carrigan, she nodded, and her eyebrows slowly knitted together. She blindly ran her finger over the wound. She could count on hands and toes the amount of bruises, cuts, or scars she had on her body from living in this orphanage. She felt her face grow hot with anger.

"Looks like it's healin' okay, huh?" said Tick, though Lucy was paying little attention.

Ms. Carrigan was inches away from her now. She met eyes with Lucy and stopped at her end of the table. She had a pinched, smug look on her face as she stared down at her. Lucy clenched her jaw; she had little control over her emotions, particularly anger.

"Up," ordered Ms. Carrigan.

Lucy, stiff, rose and felt several pairs of orphan eyes flicker in her direction.

"Now, I don't want to see you anymore in my office, Lucy. Are you going to obey the rules of this orphanage? Finally? After all these years, have I finally knocked the sense into you?" Her voice had elevated, but she was quick to check herself. In a more even tone she continued, "Lucy, God frowns upon the child who defies her guardians. Do you understand?"

Lucy released the tension in her fists and exhaled sharply through her nose. She closed her eyes, taking herself, for a split second, away from the orphanage. A light smile grew on Lucy's lips. Ginger and Tick exchanged puzzled glances; they had been ready for Lucy to hit her back or at the very least, spit something back in response.

"Yes, Ms. Carrigan." Lucy cradled her forearm next to her stomach, rubbing her newest wound. "I understand now."

Ms. Carrigan fought the urge to smile as she looked Lucy up and down suspiciously. Her eyes unlocked from Lucy and shot their glance at the newspaper on the table. She picked it up and snorted a contemptuous laugh as she read the headline.

"Girls, don't get any ideas," she said quietly, almost to herself. She turned and began walking away.

Lucy let go of her restraint and said, as fast as she thought it, "That's my paper!"

Ms. Carrigan paused and turned slowly. The mess hall was quiet now, their attention fixed at the far end of the room. Lucy now stood in the aisle, Ms. Carrigan a few feet away with an insulted, annoyed look about her face.

"And now it's mine! Sit. Down."

"Not 'til I have my paper!" Lucy felt her calm self, the quiet voice of reason, had left her body and was floating above her, shaking her head and covering her eyes.

"Child, do you learn nothing? I give you a roof over your head and food in your stomach, and you continue to defy me the way you do? You're lucky I don't throw you out onto the streets for your past -- and current -- behavior! I say no newspapers, and I mean it! Sit! Down! Now!"

Ms. Carrigan and Lucy glared icily at each other . The calm Lucy, above her head, tried its best to quell the angry one, to tell her to let it go, to sit down and spare this fight. Defeated, Lucy turned up her nose and slowly walked back to her seat, her heels clicking against the floor with a resounding noise that could be heard around the entire hall. Ms. Carrigan watched as Lucy, stiffened by restraint, dug her spoon into her bowl of mush. The mess hall returned to conversation and she walked down the aisle again.

Tick exhaled as if she hadn't breathed for a full minute. "Lucy, Lucy, Lucy. Got lucky that time."

"Yeah, I thought you was gonna rip 'er head off," added Ginger. "It's like you enjoy pissin' her off."

Lucy shuddered as the mush filled her stomach. She thought of Jack. She thought of the strike. "I'm not doin' this no more. I'm finished."

"Good, more fer me…" said Tick as she pulled Lucy's breakfast from her greedily.

"No, Tick, I'm not doin' _this_ anymore!" She gestured largely about the mess hall. "The orphanage, Carrigan, I'm done!"

Ginger eyed her cautiously. "What're you sayin', Luce?"

"I'm sayin' I'm takin' a cue from my brother, and I'm leavin'. Tomorrow."

Tick and Ginger looked at each other and exchanged looks once more. Lucy took back her bowl from Tick and scarfed down the rest of its contents. She felt her stomach rush, and she knew once again why she always dared to speak up.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm torturing you, making you wait a few chaps after that crazy prologue ;) you'll thank me later. This is just withdrawl. (Count on a corny joke for every chap now, haha)


	3. Escapist

Lucy crept past the afternoon security guard without making a noise. Her working shift was supposed to be in the restrooms, but she had made other plans. Making it safely around the corner of the main corridor, she pressed her back into the wall, out of sight. She eyed Ms. Carrigan's office located directly across the hall from the library. Peering in through the door's window, she saw Benji, the orphanage's chimney sweep, walk through it.

Benji meekly stood in front of Ms. Carrigan as she sat at her desk reading the newspaper she had taken from Lucy the day before. Lucy assumed Benji had told her he was there to clean out the chimney in the library because Ms. Carrigan simply nodded and shooed him away without looking at him. As he closed the office door, he looked at Lucy and winked.

Looking back once more at the guard, Charlie, she tiptoed into the library after Benji and shut the door. Ginger and Tick were on duty there, and were dusting off the bookshelves and piano. They stopped and rushed over to Lucy.

"You're really gonna do this?" asked Tick nervously.

"Sure am, Tick, ya sure ya don't wanna change your mind and come with me?" asked Lucy with a confident, nervous expression on her face. She quickly pulled her shoes from her bag and slipped them on without tying them -- she had foregone their use in order to sneak down the hallway unnoticed.

"I'll watch the door for ya," offered Ginger, skipping past the bookshelves and leaving the door open just a crack. Ms. Carrigan had not moved from her office, still absorbed in the newspaper.

Benji laid down a sheet so the soot from the fireplace wouldn't get on the carpet, and set up the ladder. Lucy gulped as he told her it was ready for her to climb up. She had been so focused on getting out and being free that she had forgotten how much time she had spent in that orphanage. Even though girls would come and go so often getting adopted, she would miss the people there. She looked over at Tick, who had a happy yet sad look on her face.

"Don' look at me like that!" said Lucy, gulping down the lump in her throat. "You're gonna get out soon, too, okay? And it ain't gonna be by escape."

Tick nodded, walking over to Lucy and giving her a tight hug. Lucy looked past her, and Ginger nodded a smile.

"Best 'a luck, Luce. If I ever get outta here, I'm headin' straight for New York, just to see your brother!"

"I know, Ginge. You guys hang in there, 'kay?" Lucy smiled and took a deep breath. She looked at Benji, who gave her a look of encouragement, and stepped into the fireplace.

Lucy thought she knew every square inch of this orphanage after all the time she had spent there. But it was safe to say she had never been inside the fireplace. It was cramped and uncomfortable, covered in black soot until it reached the top. The opening of the chimney was shockingly bright with the sun's light shining across it. She gripped her shaking hands on either side of the ladder. Benji assured her he wouldn't let it wobble, and she started making her way up it.

With every step she took, the more adrenaline pumped through her system. She would have smiled if she weren't so scared. What would she do if the guards outside saw her? She knew they knew who she was. She would have gotten caught for sure, and this was too important to mess up. She suddenly closed her eyes shut, and for the first time, she didn't feel like she could get away with it. Even when she had gotten caught all those times, she had had this blind confidence that made her go for it, but this time, for the first time, she had doubt.

"I-I can't do it!" she said, halfway away from the top of the chimney.

"What?!" called Benji.

"I said I can't do it! I'm gonna get caught!" Her voice started to break and she felt suddenly suffocated in the confines of the chimney.

Tick rushed over and looked up. "Lucy, you'll get caught for sure if you just stay there! Get on with it!"

"I can't, Tick, I can't do it!" She started hyperventilating, her pulse skyrocketing, and she was too afraid to even move.

"Yes, you can! You…You're Lucy Sullivan! You got the guts to do just about anything in here!" shouted Tick. "Your brother's Jack Kelly, remember? Led the strike against Pulitzer! You got it, it's in your blood! "

Tick's words comforted her a moment. She pictured the photo of the _New York Sun_, with Jack standing in the middle, proud in his defiance, delighted to stick it to the man. She heard Ginger suddenly call from the other side of the room. "_Charlie's comin'!_"

"Lucy, go! Hurry!"

Without thinking, Lucy grabbed the next bar and climbed, climbed, climbed, until she tasted the fresh air of Boston. As she got closer and closer, the adrenaline kicked back in and she smiled deviously and proudly. She hoisted herself out from the chimney and onto the rooftop. She smiled and waved down at Tick and Benji, thanking them for their help and that she would be okay from there.

Her nerves shaking still, Lucy breathed in the air outside the prison-like orphanage and looked across the skyscapers with which she stood level. Escaping provided the best rush in the world -- it was like a high, and all those times she had broken the rules were feeding that adrenaline addiction. The nearness of getting caught only fueled it.

Thinking ahead about the security guards who patrolled the outer perimeter of the orphanage, Lucy rummaged through her backpack. She slid on a pair of baggy pants and button-down shirt, and threw her hair up into a ponytail buried beneath a cap. She threw the backpack over herself and made her way down the iron ladder, and onto the fire escape that led into an alley. She jumped down into a puddle, scaring a rat away, and watched for one of the guards.

This one was Max. He was the one who strolled outside the entrance during the day, sauntering up and down the street, tapping his baton in order to frighten away any miscreants. In the rush of her adrenaline, Lucy thought cockily to herself, You will _not _catch me. She smirked and waited for him to pass by the alleyway. As soon as he did, she broke into a run and escaped in the other direction on the street. She pushed her legs into the ground hard until she was safely a block away.

As soon as the orphanage was out of sight, she stopped and turned around. It was gone -- the orphanage, Carrigan, the guards, six years -- gone. Her breath was short and she smiled. She looked up into the sky to soak it all in. Her nerves were finally calming down, the high was settling. She made her way to the train station.

* * *

**A/N:** "e-SCAHP-ay...funny, it sounds just like the words escape!" Ten points to whoever knows this movie quote.


	4. The Runaway

New York City. Three small words, one huge reputation. It was opportunity, it was Ellis Island, it was hope. A place to change, to start over, to be freely who you wanted to be. It was also scandal and rebellion, a hotbed for crime, a place to sell your soul and dine with the Devil if you so wanted. All of these qualities, the good and the bad, beckoned people like Lucy to come out to play. She was immersed in it as soon as she stepped off the train.

The streets were pulsing with energy as she darted in and out of the crowds. They weren't friendly all the time, nor were they particularly sensitive to newcomers (or in her case, returners, migrants) but that was the very reason why Lucy felt so at home again. She could handle it all. She was tough. She thrived on it.

She had gotten further and further away from the train station and through the markets already, and as soon as the noise level had dropped a bit, the first thing she heard was a newsie. A smile grew on her face as she watched a boy near her age in brown cut-off pants and an olive green button-down holding up a newspaper and shouting exaggerated headlines. She dug around her bag for a penny and made a beeline for him.

He was much cuter up close, and she remembered Ginger suggesting how good-looking most of the boys were. Lucy felt immediate attraction -- being cooped up in an all-girls orphanage had its repercussions, this being one of them. She smiled and held out a penny. He looked at her, smiling back, and handed her a paper.

"You have a great day, there, miss," he said politely. His brown eyes were deep, chocolate brown.

"Thanks. Could you do me a teeny, tiny favor?" asked Lucy, smiling even wider, keeping strong eye contact. The calm Lucy flew up above her head again and told her to take it back a few notches, to slow down. Not every cute boy she encountered needed to be seduced, or even flirted with.

"'Course I can, miss." He leaned in closer in the most subtle way possible.

Lucy made an effort to sound plain then. "Could you tell me where the lodging house is?"

The boy cocked his head. "The lodging house. The _newsies_' lodging house?"

Lucy nodded, listening to the calm angel above her shoulder. "Yeah, I'm lookin' for someone."

"Oh, alright…" The boy pointed North and gave her explicit directions, as if mapping the path out in his mind and spitting it back out to her. "Not too hard to find, can't miss it. D'ya mind me askin' who you're lookin' for? We're a pretty tight group…"

Lucy thought of Jack being the leader of such a group. It didn't surprise her that he would command a brethren of close-knit boys. She smiled to herself, and for some reason decided to keep a certain anonymity. It just seemed more exciting that way.

"Just lookin' for my brother," was all she said, and she walked in the direction he told her.

The newsie was right. The lodging house was incredibly easy to find. It was empty inside, save for the caretaker, who told her the boys should either be out selling, or they would be hanging around outside, or at Tibby's restaurant. Lucy started to get anxious. She hadn't seen Jack since they were forced apart six years ago. She rounded the corner, pushing up the sleeves of her white dress. Though she knew it was improper -- but Lucy hardly ever cared what was proper -- she unbuttoned the top button of her dress, and let her hair down from underneath her cap so that it breathed freely in the hot, August breeze.

There was a small crowd of boys centered around a tall statue of Horace Greeley a few yards off. They resembled the demeanor and speech of the newsie she first spoke with. She made her way over, hoping one of them would know where Jack was. He was nowhere around outside, but she caught the eye of one of the boys as soon as she was in close proximity. She recognized him from the picture; he was the one with the eye patch, and she had to agree with Ginger about his being good-looking. She waved him over.

"Hey…can I help ya with somethin'?" he asked, his bright smile taking over his face.

Calm Lucy took over, reeling in her first instincts. "Yeah, I'm lookin' for Jack. D'you know where he is?"

"Uh…lemme think…" He looked around the area. "Fellas, ya seen Jack? This broad's lookin' for 'im."

The boys looked up at Lucy, eyeing her up and down, as if measuring her up. She felt slightly uncomfortable for the first time. An Italian boy stood up and walked over, a cigar positioned between his index and middle fingers.

"Hiya, miss. Hate to burst your bubble, but Jack's already taken." He smiled obnoxiously and added, "but there's plenty 'a other fellas around heah, right Blink?"

The boy with the eye patch laughed, along with the others. Lucy breathed an awkward laugh as well and simply said, "I'm not lookin' for him for that…" She shuddered in disgust. "Jack's my brother."

Immediately the two boys took a huge step backward, holding up their hands to show they hadn't touched her, each saying, "Whoa!"

Lucy was taken aback.

"Sorry, miss, didn't mean to insult ya," said the Italian boy. "I'm Racetrack Higgins. This here's Kid Blink."

She shook both their hands. "Hi, I'm Lucy. No need to apologize, I haven't seen Jack in years, you probably didn't even know I existed. D'you know where he is?"

A moment later, before anyone responded, a small _ding! _resounded behind Lucy, and both Racetrack and Blink looked in that direction. It was Tibby's restaurant, and strolling out of the door, linked arm in arm with the most innocent, friendly-looking girl Lucy had ever seen, was Jack.

"That'd be the missus," joked Racetrack, to which Blink laughed in agreement.

Lucy turned around, taking a few steps forward in Jack's direction. He was smiling as he talked with the girl at his side, and as he laughed, he looked up Lucy's way. His expression was of disbelief, but his smile widened, if at all possible.

"Lucy Sullivan!" he called, as if it were a reflex.

"Jack Kelly!"

They walked towards each other, and she met him with a hug. She caught a glimpse of the girl he was with, and she looked somewhat confused and threatened at the same time.

"I read about you all the way in Boston!" said Lucy, breaking away to face him. "You're famous up there! Tell me I didn't miss the big finale 'a the strike…"

Jack looked down, but right back up again. "Sorry, sis'. Woulda loved fer you to see it, though. Me and Davey -- you gotta meet 'im -- we walked straight in to Pulitzer's office an'…God, it was amazin'! An' there was people all ovah the streets strikin' with us, an' Roosevelt was there -- Teddy was there, and he talked to me, Luce. It was great."

"God, that must've been insane, the rush you must've had from that…I'm jealous you pulled it off before I had a chance to do somethin' like it," laughed Lucy. She noticed the girl eased at the mention of the word "sis" Jack had used to address her.

"Yeah, you woulda loved it. Wait a second, how'd ya get here anyway?" asked Jack, now skeptical. She noticed the change in his demeanor now, how he was suddenly brotherly protective, not sharing in their small rebellions that they got into when they were younger.

Lucy paused and said innocently, "…Train."

"You're still…fifteen, right? Last time I checked. They let you outta there early?"

She shook her head awkwardly. "No…"

Jack eyed her, searching for the whole answer.

Lucy gave in. "Chimney sweep. I was covered in soot once I got out."

"Ah, there it is," laughed Jack. "That's a nice one. It took you six whole years to come up with it?"

"Hey!" Lucy punched him in the arm. "Wasn't like anybody was comin' to save me, _hint_, _hint_. So what if it took me a while to get out, I'm here now, ain't I?"

"Yeah, yeah, that counts. Anyway, this is Sarah…" Jack transformed his tough dynamic with his sister to one of politeness as he grabbed the girl's hand from behind him. She had nice, motherly eyes and a smile that made her look like a saint. Despite her outward appearance, Lucy's protective-sister judgment flew up and she hesitated at first, sizing her up.

"Hi there," she said finally, shaking Sarah's hand.

"Hey -- be nice," cautioned Jack.

"What -- I am! I'm always nice!" Lucy checked herself and said in one breath, "Sorry, very nice to meet you Sarah, I'm sure you're a wonderful girl."

Sarah laughed nervously. "So, it's Lucy _Sullivan_? Were you adopted?"

Lucy couldn't help but chuckle, especially when she looked at Jack, who warned her with his eyes. She turned to him, grinning, "Oh, _Francis_, you didn't tell her?"

"Luce!" he reacted stubbornly. He let go of Sarah and yanked Lucy into the crook of his arm, to which she smacked at him and laughed even harder. "That's enough outta you already, why don'tcha get back to Boston, huh?"

Sarah made a puzzled face but managed to breathe a few laughs. Racetrack and Blink both shrugged, just as confused as she was. She followed them as Lucy broke free of Jack's chokehold and they walked back into Tibby's. She exhaled a breath. "Okay, then…Lucy Sullivan." Lucy was not an ordinary girl, that was for certain, Sarah thought. "Got it. Alright, then…"

* * *

A/N: I'm updating fast because I have been writing like a fiend. I have the next five chaps already written, woot! Still would like the see the number of reviews go up (hint, hint) I ask so innocently of you. Here's my joke for this chapter: corny joke. Get it? Me neither. It's very late at night...


	5. Jack and Lucy

Lucy's smile had yet to leave her face, and she had been in New York for a couple of hours already. On top of the kind of life she had been subconsciously longing for back in the orphanage, the overall change of pace was exciting. She had been conversing with Jack and a few other newsies in Tibby's restaurant until the sun started setting. Not to mention, she was in the company of boys all evening. What was not to love?

"It all started, this whole refuge thing…" Lucy motioned in circles around her brother who sat next to her at the table, "when we were…How old were we?"

Jack tapped his finger against his mouth, looking upwards in thought. "I was eleven, so you was --"

"--Nine, that's right. I remember it pretty clear, it was really hot out that day, must've been in July or August. Anyway, it was around noon at the time, we hadn't eaten all day, and we was flat broke between the two of us…"

Jack laughed somewhat uneasily and shook his head looking down, as if predicting his impending doom.

"We come up to Corwell Market, ya know the big one right in the center of town? And on the street corner there's a fruit stand on one end and a bakery on the other. It's like middle 'a the day, people everywhere, we thought we'd go by completely unnoticed, right?"

The boys at the table exchanged glances and smiles. They had known this was the reason Jack had originally been taken to the refuge all those infamous years ago.

"Yeah, we was wrong," added Jack with a slightly shameful smile. He took a quick swig of his soda. "Dead wrong!"

"No kiddin', it was _your_ idea, too. Anyway. I go off to the fruit stand, and I guess I could just blend in better than you, Jack, you weren't secretive about it at all! I slipped, I think, two apples into the pockets of my dress, the guy had no idea. I look over and Jack's takin' off runnin', full speed, and grabs a loaf of bread on his way, knockin' over the vendor completely!" Lucy smacked her hands together and slid them apart quickly.

Jack, still smiling, leaned his head back and covered his face with his hands. Sarah grinned just as widely in amusement and rubbed his shoulder encouragingly. The boys erupted in laughter, teasing Jack and clapping their hands. Lucy continued her story with a vivid smile on her face as she recalled the humor of that day.

"So, listen…Jack starts runnin' through the crowd, and I stand there, stunned, not knowin' what else to do, so I just bolt right after him, I mean us little thieves gotta stick together, right? Little did we know, though, in our very _young_, very _tiny_, little brains, the bulls is right behind us. I mean, _right _there, the whole time, horses, whistles, _everything_, the whole shebang. Needless to say, we did not get very far…"

"I was eleven years old, a'right, whadda you expect from me, huh?" said Jack in his own defense.

"Well, I think Les could have done a better job at stealing a loaf of bread…" teased Sarah, almost inaudibly, yet the entire table heard. Jack turned to her, shocked, and Lucy couldn't help but laugh along with everyone else. Sarah, after reading his expression, smiled guiltily and buried her face into his arm.

"That's twice now, _twice_ in one aftanoon you'se embarrassed me, Luce, thanks a lot," said Jack, grinning because he couldn't help but get caught up in the good-natured humor of it all. He shook his head and patted Sarah's hand. "So, that's how it all started fer me -- the failed capture of a measly loaf 'a bread."

Blink pointed to him and said, "So you was in the refuge till you escaped -- nicely done, by the way --"

"Thank you, I happen to agree."

Blink pointed to Lucy. "--And you, what happened to you, they take you away when they got him?"

Lucy gulped her drink down her dry tongue and throat. She and Jack had been telling stories of their rebellious childhood ever since she returned. "They sent me to the girls' refuge, where I stayed for a couple 'a months, but I never got the chance to escape in the exciting way _this _kid did…I bounced around a couple of 'em here before they sent me off to an orphanage in Boston. I was a 'problem child'," she laughed. "I was a 'ward of the state,' which they intended to straighten out for good. Obviously, didn't work 'cause here I am!"

"Well, cheers to that!" Blink held up his glass, to which Lucy and Jack, and the rest of the table all clinked together.

Lucy drank the rest of her glass all the way down. Her meal was complete. She had eaten and had several glasses of soda. She was finally reunited with her brother after all those years, and had reminisced in the company of total strangers, about which she felt the utmost comfort. She had known these people for mere hours, and already she felt comfortable enough to regale in the humorous, sometimes horrific, stories of her past with them. She had even told stories of her life within the orphanage, and the various ways in which she dodged being adopted into a clan she hardly knew. _These_ people were her people. It was a feeling that had been missing in her life: family.

The door bell dinged then, and through the doorway walked a pleasant-looking boy of Jack's age, with a blue striped shirt and brown curly hair. The table waved him over, and he took a sat next to Lucy. She simply smiled and extended her hand. "Hi, I'm Lucy."

"David. Nice to meet you."

Jack leaned over and informed him, "Kid sister from back in the day. I don' mean fake sister, like when we bummed on the street together --"

"What, who bummed, Jack?" intervened Lucy.

"-- Real sister, same parents, the whole deal, ya know."

David laughed. Lucy shook her head. She noticed David took a few moments longer to look at her than she did him. The waiter came around to take David's order, and pointed to anyone else at the table who was going to get anything else. Lucy dug around the change she had in her pockets, and her stomach growled at her in hunger. (It was hard to turn down food when you had grown accustomed to mush everyday.)

"Yeah, I'll have a roast beef sandwich, please," said David politely.

"Make that two," added Lucy thoughtlessly. She flipped the hair out of her eyes. David looked at her other finished plate, then back at her.

"Sister's got your appetite, Jack," joked Racetrack. He and Blink chuckled as they rose from the table.

"Yeah, that's real nice sayin' that to a girl, fellas. Where you goin' anyway?" said Jack.

"Poker night! What, you actually forgot? You're kiddin' me, right?" Racetrack's face was surprised, almost insulted.

"Easy, Race, not everyone's got a gamblin' problem," quelled Blink, sending a knowing glance towards Jack. He sighed and shook Lucy's hand once more, telling her again it was nice to have met her and that he'd hoped to see her soon. Race hurried Blink along in a rush, telling him, "Get a move on, goddamnit, we'se got guys from all the borroughs comin' out, Jesus, Blink, so much money to be won tonight…"

"Various personality types here," said David to Lucy. "You pick up on them pretty quick, though."

"I've noticed!" replied Lucy, and she turned back to Jack to speak. "Poker night? That your little version of boys' night?"

"Guess so. Feel like winnin' back some 'a that train ticket? You should top by, play a game er two. But I gotta warn ya, Race does _not _joke around when it comes to poker --"

"Yes, he's right about this--" interrupted David, determined to get more words into the conversation.

"-- So if ya go, ya better be in to win it. But you might not win much, hardly no one beats 'im. 'Sprobably the reason why he holds so many 'a these damn poker nights, just to get all the money he knows he can…" Jack took another drink. "Then asks the rest of us if he can bum a few cents the next day sellin' papes. It's all very predictable 'round heah."

Lucy shook her head. She felt as though Racetrack was one of the most colorful players in Jack's tight group of brothers. Shortly afterward, more food had arrived, and Lucy got her sandwich down in four or five bites. She finished it off with a glass of water and let out a content, now stuffed, sigh of relief. David looked her up and down, and back at his half-eaten sandwich.

"Guess I should pace myself next time," he said jokingly. Lucy breathed a slightly absent laugh.

After dinner, the Jacobs brother and sister walked with Jack and Lucy until they parted ways for the evening. David smiled again at Lucy, shaking her hand, and saying the same thing Blink had said to her earlier, that it was a pleasure to meet her and that he truly hoped to see her sometime in the near future. Sarah, who had still maintained her air of tenderness and smiles, waved and said she would see Lucy the next day. The friendliness, though perfectly welcomed, almost overwhelmed Lucy.

"Wow, Jack, looks like ya got yourself a wife there, huh?" said Lucy as they walked towards the lodging house.

"Very funny. Just 'cause Sarah's nice 'n all don't mean we're shackin' up anytime soon…" Jack paused thoughtfully, and it did not go unnoticed by Lucy. "Anyway, what was that between you and Dave?"

Lucy made a confused, shocked face and stopped walking. "What was _what_?"

Jack laughed. "Nevah seen Dave smile like _that_ before! 'Course I ain't countin' the way he looked at Medda first time he saw her, and I'se only known him a few weeks, but…"

"Alright, let's just cut it off right there, Francis --"

"The walkin' mouth, ya know, pretty smart…"

"-- there's nothin' you saw between me and David, okay? I just met the guy for God's sake. I can tell he's just a genuinely…nice…smiley…person," and without skipping a beat or taking a breath Lucy countered defensively, "Much like his _sister_, Jack, what're you bringin' up Medda for anyway, what's that s'posed to mean? The Jacobs're just a smiley, overly friendly family. Jesus…"

Jack threw up his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright. Subject dropped. Now let's go try an' kill some guys at poker. Gotta build up my reputation afta you so heartlessly bruised it this aftanoon…" muttered Jack as they walked into the lodging house. Lucy laughed to herself as Jack continued. "Francis…bread thief…_God_…"

* * *

A/N: I'll start feeding your addiction very, very, very shortly after this chapter. Let me know if you've started getting headaches or the shakes between the prologue and now (haha. I'm amuse the crap out of myself)


	6. Encounter

It was true. Racetrack and most of the boys took poker night very seriously. The only time they eased up, it seemed, was when Jack and Lucy arrived. The boys -- each from their respected territories and boroughs of New York -- did a double take as Lucy trailed behind Jack.

"A'right, we're gonna make this quick 'cause I know Race's gonna piss hisself if we don't get started…" called Jack in front of the group.

A round of laughter, and Racetrack sat up in his seat in defense.

"This is my sister Lucy. _Kid_ sister. As in, hands off. I mean it…" Jack pointed to certain boys in the room, the certain boys who had hungry, greedy smiles on their faces upon the rare sighting of a girl in the lodging house bunkroom.

Lucy chuckled and eventually smiled, giving the entire group a quick wave. Though she completely appreciated the protectiveness Jack gave off, she was slightly offended that he did not think she could take after herself. After all, in the company of all these boys, it was hard to see how any of them had a mean bone in their body…

"A'right, now that's ovah, we can get started…" shouted Racetrack from the table in the middle of the room. He shuffled the cards furiously, the small remains of a brown cigar hanging out the corner of his mouth. Lucy had a seat and prepared herself.

After an hour or so, a few rounds of Texas Hold 'Em, and too much money already lost, Lucy politely excused herself from the table, forfeiting the next rounds. She could only put up with so much serious card-playing and cigar smoke at one time. She walked between two bunks and ducked out the window. She landed on the fire escape and climbed up. The rooftop seemed as though it would be a calm place with a nice view of the city, a city to which she had a profound connection.

As soon as she reached it, she realized she was not the only one who agreed. There were bits and pieces of liquor bottles, wood, marbles, slingshots, papers, even clothes -- all traces of life on this rooftop. Exciting life. And judging from the clothes, lucky life. Lucy sniggered to herself. There was something about being there when the dust had settled on the rooftop. Something intriguing. Curiosity plagued her; she wanted to know what sort of things took place here, before her. What sorts of activities were held here? Why did people come up here? Who were they and what were their stories? Yet another reason why she loved New York City -- the infinite limit of wonder in the smallest bits of life.

The lodging house was not in the residential area of the city, and instead sat right in the middle of the industrial district. It wasn't loud, but there was noise around her, a constant humming of busyness. Something was going on at every minute of the day. Lucy walked around her secluded area a bit, kicking broken glass bottles and checking the dates of the various newspapers. She then set her eyes on the edge of the rooftop, and walked to it. As she got closer to it, she began to merely inch towards it, tempting it almost.

The ledge, to any other person, was just a ledge. But to Lucy, it was another chance at bringing the rush. The adrenaline. The nerves raking through her whole body, finding their way and releasing most intensely within her stomach. That fear, the answer to the What if? It was like pulling a trigger to the high. The nearness of it was the most exciting feeling in the world.

So she stepped closer, closer, closer. The building was three floors, and when she leaned her head over the edge in the slightest, she could see the windows of all the levels. She could see them protruding out into the air. Into nothingness. Light, sheer nothingness. So weightless, so carefree, so _easy_…

So she leaned out further.

Her heart was racing. She could feel it beating in her throat and in the deepest pit of her stomach.

Her whole body, trusting that her mind would know its limit, her adrenaline pumping to counter it.

A smile grew slowly on her face. _I could get out even more_, she bet to herself.

Her legs moved in the tiniest amount. It was good enough. She was cheating with the possibility of falling.

Tempting it.

Flirting with it.

Kissing it.

"You ain't gonna jump, are ya?"

Lucy suddenly went flying backward. "_JESUS CHRIST!_"

She felt a crash of thoughts and confused physical sensations run though her body, breaking her of her reverie. She felt like something had yanked her back to send her tumbling to her knees, choking for air. Her ears rang out in pings of nothingness, and her mind flashed intense, colorful and blinding images at the sheer fright of it all.

After so many seconds, she opened her eyes. No one had pulled her back from the ledge. Her body had done so after the surprise of a new, unfamiliar male voice. She looked up, shaking, to a figure standing about ten feet from where she sat. It was dark out with only the light of a full moon, but she couldn't make out his face. He let out a quiet laugh.

"Ya alright there?" he asked.

Lucy felt angry at this unwelcome visitor. Had he been standing there all along, watching her, waiting to scare the _shit_ out of her like that? She got up at once and tossed her chestnut locks from her face.

"NO," she huffed between breaths. "I mean, yeah, I mean…Who are you?"

He stepped forward, and Lucy detected a smirk on his face. "Obviously a saint, I just saved yer life."

"No, no, I wasn't gonna jump…I was just, uh…lookin' over the edge there." Lucy still felt the difficulty in calming her body down. From what she could make out of her hand in the darkness it was still shaking furiously.

The stranger walked toward the ledge and peered over. After a moment, he turned back to her. "The ground. Yeah, I see that. Very exciting."

Lucy was taken aback, not to mention slightly offended. She stuttered for words and came out speechless. He seemed to pick up on this immediately.

"Meant no offense. Just looked strange seein' a fifteen, sixteen year old girl up heah. On the rooftop. Boys' lodgin' house. Middle 'a the night. Ready to jump."

Lucy scoffed. "No, I wasn't gonna jump, you misunderstand me. I was just up here lookin' at the city and…" She felt thrown off by his tone. It was the first time she felt…intimidated by someone here. Everybody else had been so welcoming and friendly.

"I'm goin' back inside." She turned and started to make her way back to the fire escape.

"Don't be like that," called the boy. He took a few steps after her and she paused. "Now, I'm sorry, it just ain't a thing we newsies're used to seein' is all. We're used to girls hangin' ovah our beds, not buildings…"

Though she resented that he would not be able to see and fully appreciate it, Lucy made a truly disgusted face. "You're kinda sick."

The boy held up his hands. "Nah, people _love _me." Pause. "You would too if ya got to know me."

"Really, is that so?" Lucy cocked her head doubtfully.

"Yep. Most people think so. Ask any 'a them. _Love_ me."

"And what, they'll tell me how humble and appreciative of your fellow man you are? Somehow I doubt it." Lucy scoffed and made to turn around again. A moment later, she felt a hand on her arm. She looked back and the boy was inches from her face. If she weren't so taken aback before, she certainly was now.

"Appreciative of my fellow man? You don' think so? I walked up heah and see you hangin' ovah the ledge of a rooftop and asked if you was gonna jump." His tone was neither somber nor rough, and for a split second Lucy almost felt guilty. "What's that tell ya, huh?"

Lucy fumbled for words, being so put on the spot she could not speak. She breathed the beginning sounds of words but failed to create whole ones. She gently worked herself out of his light grip.

"'Swhat I thought." He sounded neither offended nor angered by Lucy's assumption and reaction. She merely felt like he wanted to put her in her place. He walked past her and started making his way down the fire escape, leaving Lucy only to watch out of the corner of her eye.

Before he was completely out of sight, he stopped and looked directly at her, saying in an intrigued tone of voice, "I'm glad ya didn't get the chance to jump…Be a shame to nevah know such a pretty girl like yourself. Have a nice night."

Again, Lucy was speechless. Instead she exhaled and managed to respond, "Wasn't…gonna jump!…"

He was out of sight just as quickly as he had come in, and when Lucy looked around her settings, she suddenly felt very much alone. It seemed darker than it was a minute ago, and much quieter. She tapped her foot nervously and wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. She looked at the spot on the ledge at which she was leaning over. The image burned into her memory. She looked back and gathered her hair to one side. Clearing her throat, with all the adrenaline in her system spent up, she made her way back down the fire escape and into the bunkroom.

* * *

A/N: My, my, feeling a little elusive, are we? Haha. You know the drill. Review till your little fingers fly off :D


	7. Conlon

Lucy had had an accurate vision of the Jacobs family. Smiley, friendly, the whole deal. She was uncomfortably taken care of when she and Jack sat at the table in the morning in their apartment, as guests, while David, Sarah, Les, and Esther hustled around to accommodate their company for breakfast. She felt the need to correct her posture and pay more attention to her speech, even though she had a strong feeling none of them would be offended. And if Jack could pull it off, so could she.

"Lucy, would you prefer milk or orange juice?" asked Esther in her tranquil, maternal voice.

"Um, either one is fine. I don't mind."

The answer was apparently not good enough. All four Jacobs's stopped and looked at her for an answer. Not demanded an answer, just sought a better one. Lucy found it odd, that her answer, her opinion over whether she preferred juice or milk, actually mattered. She felt her cheeks flush before stammering, "Uh, juice's fine."

They went about their business. Jack hit Lucy's arm and made a puzzled face, to which she shrugged and tried her best to loosen up. No one had really taken care of her in this way -- with the exception, of course, of their mother, who had died when Lucy was four years old, and Jack was six. She tried to imagine what Jack's first meal with this family must have been like, and for some reason or another, it gave her comfort while at the same time amusing her. In her twisted, creative mind, he had nervously spilled something, broken something, or had a case of verbal diarrhea. She pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh.

"So, the bunkroom must've been an…interesting…place to stay the night," said David as he set the table. His bright blue eyes must have been happy all the time, Lucy noted. Hers were the same shade of blue, but they were never that happy.

"Yeah, that was real pleasant," she said sarcastically. "I mean, I'm used to sleeping in bunkrooms, but not with boys. Jack, you really need to talk to someone about that snoring problem you got…"

Jack let that one slide and merely shrugged. "Insults already? It's only breakfast."

Sarah walked over to the table and put down plates of toast and butter. Lucy noticed the way her entire face lit up when she looked in Jack's direction, even when he didn't look back. All she did was walk over and sit down, and it was as though the rest of the day was all downhill. Lucy thought this to be undeniably sweet, but mildly sickening at the same time; she was far too cynical at times to believe it.

"So, what happened to you when Jack went to the refuge?" asked Les curiously, sitting down across from Lucy. "Musta been bad having to be on your own without Jack."

"Well, it wasn't so bad, I guess since I went to a few places myself, I had no other place to go," responded Lucy. She debated quickly with herself how much information to divulge. She wanted to keep up a bright and shiny exterior with the Jacobs family, and saying too much would not set well with her. David, Sarah, and Les were seated at the table now, and Esther was still preparing food; Lucy saw her out of the corner of her eye and didn't want to upset her in any way. "But they let me out a few days ago from the orphanage in Boston so I came here."

Lucy's calmer voice of reason popped out of her again. _Because lying is better than the truth, right? _she said, laughing. Real life Lucy looked in Jack's direction, cringing and shrugging. David let out a laugh concealed in a cough, and he looked up at Lucy through the tops of his eyes. Sarah grinned too, and Lucy felt a little better, even when her cheeks felt like they were on fire.

Esther walked to the table with a plate full of scrambled eggs. She set it down in the center, telling everyone to "dig in." David then raised his glass and said casually, "Here's to Dad getting his job back today." The rest agreed and clinked glasses with one another. Lucy gulped down her juice thirstily.

* * *

"God, why was that so nerve-racking?" asked Lucy, leaning against the bunk of Jack's bed, after the two of them returned once breakfast was over.

"What, really? Ya thought so?" Jack looked at her, a mixture of surprise and incredulity.

Lucy looked at the floor and ran her fingers through her hair, working the tangles out. "I guess nerve-racking ain't the right word. That was just…surreal? Is that what I'm lookin' for?"

Jack snorted a laugh. "Just 'cause your breakfast consists of somethin' other than a cold bowl of _mush_ don't make it surreal. The Jacobs're just real welcoming. Probably the nicest people I ever met. What was there to be so nervous about?"

Lucy opened her mouth to reply, when Jack suddenly cut her off and said, "It was Dave, wasn't it? David was makin' ya nervous!" He pointed at her and smiled as if he had uncovered a secret of hers.

"_No_, Jack. No. David does not make me nervous, does not like me, and there is nothin' between us. God, we just met, slow the hell down." She shook her head and separated her hair between both shoulders. "I just don't know how to act around them. What's proper, what isn't, that sorta thing."

"Well, first ya gotta remembah they took me in without too much question, so they ain't gonna have any problems with you. They ain't high society or nothin'. Second, you'se just nervous 'cause the last time we had a breakfast like that was eleven years ago. Just relax and appreciate Sarah's cooking, 'cause it hits the spot."

The bunkroom door then opened, and in walked -- _strutted_ -- a boy Lucy did not recognize at first glance. Yet she did a double take on him as he made his way across the room. Red suspenders, checkered shirt sleeves rolled up to his biceps, a black, gold-tipped cane tucked between his suspenders, and shocking silver-grey eyes that she could see all the way from where she stood. She felt her stomach suddenly rush with nerves. Her mind flew to figure out the reaction she was having, and she nervously looked away for a moment.

"Heya Jacky-boy," said the stranger.

The stranger. Lucy recognized the voice at once. She looked up and realized she had inadvertently backed away three steps.

"How's it goin', Conlon, what brings ya back heah?" Lucy noticed Jack's voice had a roughness in it that was never there when he spoke with any of the other newsies. They spit-shook, and Jack's smile was forced. "I ain't givin' you any more 'a my money if that's what's up."

"Nah, that'll be wasted in a few days anyway. I forgot my hat heah last night. Too proud about my winnings that I walked home without it. Almost couldn't sell this mornin'," he scoffed at the absurdity before adding as a side note, "Turned out no problems there, though…"

Lucy now stood watching his profile. He was smirking. Her body had recoiled, and she couldn't figure why exactly it had done so. She shook herself out subtly, clearing her throat and looking away. He turned in her direction, and they met eyes for barely a split second before Jack replied and he looked away.

"Ah, yeah, I thought that was someone else's. Where'd I put that thing…" Jack searched the area around his bunk, not hurriedly or efficiently. Lucy tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and looked at her surroundings -- the bunk in front of her, the ceiling, the window, anything but the boy.

Conlon. The stranger.

Before Jack could locate the hat's whereabouts, a smaller, meek looking newsie walked up behind Conlon and, reaching up, tapped him on the shoulder. He looked quite frightened, and gripped the grey hat in his hand. Conlon turned and took the hat from him. The boy looked like his heart would jump to this throat at any time as he stood, intimidated, by this boy.

"Thanks." Conlon smacked the boy's shoulder roughly in gratitude. "Really…_appreciate_ it."

His eyes glimpsed Lucy's and his eyes smirked at her, if at all possible, in the quickest, most fluid motion as he turned back around to talk to Jack. Lucy innately sat up straight, feeling put on the spot, again, by this boy. She turned her head to the side and watched him from the corners of her eyes. Had she been a puppy, she would have perked her ears and cocked her head from side to side, trying to figure out a strange noise.

"A'right then, came to get what I needed…" Conlon placed the hat atop his head, completing his image. He shook hands with Jack, who remained straight-faced and direct, and made his way back to the door without any other mention to Lucy whatsoever.

Lucy exhaled once he was out of sight. She widened her eyes and closed them, shaking her head to herself, trying to give reason to the way she had reacted to this boy. Jack had watched him, unmoving, until he was gone. He shook his head to himself and muttered under his breath. The newsie who had given him the hat exhaled a gust of air and made his way to his own bunk.

"So, what was, uh --" Lucy cleared her throat; it had gone dry. "Who was that?"

Jack paused. He looked at her through the tops of his brown eyes. "_That_ was Brooklyn. Cockiest, most arrogant son of a bitch in New York. Name's Spot Conlon."

Lucy felt shivers up her spine, and all she could say was, "Oh?"

"Yeah." Jack muttered inaudible curses under his breath again. "He helped us with the strike, sure as hell helped us out, but that guy…his ego's as big as the East Coast put together, and he knows it. Made us prove to him we was serious about the strike. Woulda never done that to him if the situation was flipped around, ya know? Woulda been fightin' the strike with 'im in a heartbeat. But wait, Brooklyn don't need help, does he? Too good for it…" Jack then straightened up and looked directly at Lucy, venting all of his emotion out towards her suddenly. "And ya know what he does then? Shows up late to poker expectin' to buy in like _we'se_ the lucky ones. Like we'se so fortunate that he graced us with his presence. Like he's some kinda royalty." He scoffed roughly. "Then he takes all our money. Like I said, most arrogant son of a bitch in New York. That was Brooklyn, Luce."

Lucy swallowed and nodded her head. "Alright, then. Any reason you didn't introduce us?"

Jack paused and stared at her. He replied in a low, intent voice, "'Cause you don't need to know him and he don't need to know you."

Lucy nodded again. But she couldn't help but feel undeniably intrigued. Spot Conlon had encountered her. She remembered they way he glimpsed her eyes just a moment ago because he remembered her. He remembered what she said to him. She remembered the way he affected her.

He remembered.

_Conlon. _She remembered.

* * *

A/N: Hm. Nothin' to say except I love the amount of feedback I got for the last chapter, so keep 'em comin'!


	8. An Opportunity

-1"I'm real low on cash…" worried Lucy, emptying the contents of her bag on Jack's bed. Aside from the handful of coins she had already found, only a penny fell from the bottom. She sighed, furrowing her eyebrows in thought.

Jack placed his arms on the bars of the bed and rested his chin on them. "Where'd ya get all the money from in the first place?"

"Carrigan," said Lucy simply, surprised he had not already assumed so. "I memorized the safe numbers so long ago."

Jack breathed a laugh, and Lucy dismissed the issue altogether, as if it were an afterthought. The money was, however, getting to be a problem. She looked at Jack, and without saying a word, he threw his arms up and said, "Sorry, I'm broke as it is."

Lucy's shoulders fell to their haunches and she let herself fall lazily onto the bed, giving up. "This means I gotta get a job, don't it?"

Jack put his hand on her shoulder and shook it encouragingly. "Ya get twice as much money if ya sell papes as a girl, ya know…" he tempted.

Lucy stared up at the ceiling without response. Could she actually sell papers? Perhaps. Was she sneaky and clever enough to catch a foul headline and spin it around in the blink of an eye? Probably not. Did she necessarily want to work three different shifts everyday to make ends meet, to walk around outside everyday in either the blazing heat or freezing snow, to eternally be "one of the guys" in the eyes of the rest of the newsies world? No. A resounding _no _echoed in her ears.

"I mean…" started Jack, reading her lack of response and expression on her face, "there's always the factory. Plenty of 'em in the city." His tone was not very hopeful. The idea of an opportunity was hopeful, yet the idea of working in the factory was not.

"Ya know, I think I'll just go walk around toay an' look for somethin'." She sat up confidently. There had to be _something_ out there that didn't involve heavy machinery and newspapers. "I'll get creative and by the end 'a the day, you will have a fully employed sister."

As Lucy made her way into the city, she suddenly felt scared of it. Nothing had really changed -- it was still crowded, dirty, and loud -- but her outlook suddenly seemed a little…bleak. She made her way into the markets where the vendors were now hostile and aggressive, shoving food and small trinkets in her face for "the small, one-time-only price of two cents! Just two cents!" Her eyes glimpsed the industrial district in the distance, where smokes and steam rose in huge puffs into the sky. She wasn't going to give in just yet.

The restaurants were either family-owned or seemed to hire under the requirement of having a Y chromosome. The residential areas were swanky by the naked eye, that was a given, but to work as a maid, she had to be older. She was told by several house-owners that they could never trust their homes with a fifteen-year old girl. The same went for a few bookstores she came upon; she had the silly notion that if she could read, she'd have the job. None such, however; the owners wanted someone who had an education, not a runaway orphan who was nearly flat broke.

As she made her way out of the third bookstore she tried, the sun was starting to set. She folded her arms across her chest and bit down on her quivering lip. Lucy never cried that much. But she couldn't help the sudden surge of emotion. Through her watery eyes she looked at the factories a few blocks away. She had to face it: the only place that was going to hire her was a hot, sweaty, filthy, factory with long hours and low pay. The truth was real and painful. She took a deep breath and collected herself.

Yet not a moment did she have to wait to have opportunity drop in out of the blue. There was a women's clothing store to her right, out of which a young girl stumbled out with tears in her eyes, sobbing. A large, middle-aged woman with frizzy red hair stood in the doorway with a sneer about her face. A white, expensive-looking garment with a bright red stain was shaking in her grip.

"Please, Molly, I need this job!" cried the young girl from the sidewalk.

"Well, that's too bad, no?" replied Molly, the older woman, in an Irish accent. "'Cause no one's gonna be buyin' the clothes you mend with a blood stain on it, are they?"

The girl looked Lucy's age. Lucy's eyes bounced back and forth as they continued to argue. Moments later, Molly threw up her arms in defeat and turned back around. She slammed the door close and put up a sign in the window that read, NOW HIRING. Lucy practically jumped out of her skin and ran up to the store's front door, knocking frantically. Molly had only walked a few feet, and she turned back around, still annoyed from the altercation before, and opened the door.

"I can sew!" Lucy blurted out desperately.

"What…" Molly looked at the sign in the window and back at Lucy, who was breathing in and out quickly with wide, hopeful eyes. She looked at her skeptically. "How long?"

"Since I was four. My mother taught me."

"She still around?" asked Molly without skipping a beat.

Lucy's breath caught up with her and she replied, "No."

Molly looked her up and down. She walked towards her and grabbed the bottom of Lucy's dress. Lucy made a confused look and wasn't sure if it had been alright that she flinched only a little. Molly looked back up at her and ripped the fabric from her ankle to her knee. Lucy opened her mouth to speak but was too afraid.

"Alright, then. You've got five minutes to prove it," prompted Molly. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a needle and spool of white thread.

Lucy gulped and took the needle in her hand. She looked around subtly to find a place to sit down. Molly rolled her eyes and nodded to follow her. They walked across the store, behind the cash register, and through a wooden door. It was the workroom. A large table took up most of the cramped space, with dress forms here and there, and a wall of colorful spools to the left. There was a window, though very small, and its view was limited to street-level so plenty of shoes could be seen strolling, running, dragging by.

For some reason, just as she entered the studio space, Lucy was hit with a memory. It was of her mother when Lucy was four years old.

_"Pick a color. Red or purple?" Emily Sullivan smiled at her daughter, holding out two ribbons._

_Lucy reached instinctively and without hesitation, as if completely sure of herself even at a young age, to the purple one._

_"Of course, I should have known. Always purple, right?"_

_She tied the ribbon into Lucy's hair._

It was quick, like a fragment of a memory, not a complete one, and it was hazy. It left as fast as it came, and Lucy was thrown off by the onset of it.

"Take a seat, all the thread's right here, and I'll be back in five," interrupted Molly, motioning to the chair and the wall of thread.

She was out the door in a haste, and Lucy promptly sat down. She grabbed the spool of ribbon and began working. She had always been able to sew garments and other fabrics together. It just came naturally to her. She had done plenty of sewing and mending back at the orphanage. Feeding the thread through the needle, it wasn't quite as nerve-racking anymore.

But the memory. Why so sudden? And why, of all times, why had it hit her at that very moment? Lucy had never known much of her mother. She had only spent four of her fifteen years with her, and those were the early years. She had thought about her countless times, but she had to try and piece together most of what she saw or felt, and then distinguish it between reality and imagination.

Within three minutes, Lucy was finished. Molly came bustling back into the workroom, her fiery orange hair frizzing about her face.

"That was actually much shorter than I intended," she said as she walked, "so if ya can't handle the pressure sometimes --"

She looked down at Lucy's mended dress. It was as good as new. Lucy looked up at her, her eyes hopeful and anxious. Molly simply said, "Hm!" and turned around. She motioned for Lucy to follow, which she did at an instant.

"I start promptly, _promptly_, at seven in the mornin' and I don't like mornings, just to warn ya…" She ran through the complete set of policies for her store in a breathless, quick speech. Lucy was only allowed in the shop when she came inside for the day and left for the night; she was not allowed to see or speak to any of the customers; she was not allowed to touch contracts, checks, bills, coins, or anything whatsoever to do with money; she was to work efficiently or not work at all -- in other words, fired.

"…And I swear, if you bring your personal problems into your work I'll send you right out onto your arse like the last girl. You saw Emma, standin' outside me shop causin' a scene like that!" Molly spun around on the spot, surprising Lucy. "Anymore questions? I'm so sorry to hear of your mother, dear child, but I won't be your mother here, so don't expect me to give you time off or special treatment, but I do have a room upstairs above the shop I'll need to rent out now that Emma's done for -- another reason you shouldn't bring your personal life here, the little twit was sobbin' over her some lad and she pricked herself 'til she bled all over the new French import! I about died just a half hour ago, it was the newest fabric to come in, and what, she treats it like a hanky for Christ's sake! Excuse my language, I shouldn't speak in such a way…"

It was silent for the first time in five minutes. Lucy swallowed and Molly looked at her expectantly, "Well then? The room?"

"Oh!"

"D'you want it or not, 'cause I'll need the money by tomorrow and every Friday thereafter."

Lucy's head spun around in excitement. A job. A place to live. It was too good to be true. She fumbled for her words but managed to eek out, "Y-Yeah, I'll definitely--"

"Good! Emma'll have her things packed up and moved out by tonight, so you can move in tomorrow after you're done here…"

Lucy left the shop and stepped into a brighter, happier city. She looked towards the industrial district and turned up her nose. No factory job for her. She was better than that. She had a real job and a real place to stay. She was no longer dependent -- though she never really was to begin with, but she did not need the help of her brother or the Jacobs's anymore.

She felt uplifted in the new opportunity as she strolled along the street. There was a smile on her face that would make other people on the street wonder what she was thinking. They would wonder what she was up to. That, in itself, made her smile as well. It was almost like a rush, but not quite --

"Oh! Sorry…"

Lucy had turned the corner and walked directly into another person. Her face -- her smiling, cheerful, borderline suspicious face -- collided into a boy's chest fairly hard, enough to make her cheekbones tingle. She felt his hands grip her arms tightly to move her out of the way, and as she stepped in the direction they moved her in, she was stopped.

"Hm," the stranger said.

It was then that she looked up and discovered she had collided into none other than Spot Conlon.

She suddenly felt her skin shiver a hot tingle underneath his hands. Her eyes went suddenly apologetic as she looked up into his, and she felt small. His lips spread into a subtle, crooked smile, and it, for some reason, wasn't a smile at all. It was more like a smirk.

It seemed like his eyes could smirk too.

In an odd way, his eyes had a pull, and they reigned her in. All of this in a matter of seconds.

"Well, well," he said, breaking the silence. "First jumpin', now crashin'."

Lucy's mouth was dry, and the sound of his voice made her stomach do somersaults. He was talking to her, looking at her, remembering her. She blinked and looked down, and said in a dry, humorous tone, "I wasn't jumping."

"Of course not." He let her go and took a step backward. Lucy brushed herself off, avoiding looking into his eyes for she was far too nervous to look at him head on again. She cleared her throat and felt her heartbeat pounding in her eardrums. The calm Lucy patted her on the back saying, in a puzzled voice, _Relax, what's the big deal? It's just a boy._

So Lucy looked back up and extended her hand. "I don't think we've properly met just yet --"

"No, we haven't, Lucy, it's nice to finally meet ya," he interrupted.

Lucy cocked her head to the side, thrown off. Her hand remained in his -- his grip was strong, commanding. "You know my name.'

"You know mine."

He smiled -- or was it smirked? -- his crooked smile, and Lucy couldn't help but grin slightly too, flattered. She replied, "How d'you know who I am?"

"Pretty new girl ain't kept quiet fer long," he said matter-of-factly. "Not to mention, I know everythin' that goes on in New York."

Lucy popped one eyebrow up. "Really. Everything?"

Spot leaned towards her, his eyes once again doing the same number on her that they did before, and she felt woozy. "Everything."

Lucy wrung her mind out and realized they were still holding hands. "Well, then…it's nice to finally meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine." He let go of her hand and put his hands in his pockets. In this light, he looked polite and mannerly. In this light, it was a smile. "So, what brings you to this part 'a Manhattan? Pretty far from the lodgin' house, don't'cha think?"

"No, I was, uh, just lookin' for a job and everything…been walkin' around all day, mainly avoiding the factories…" she stammered.

"Didja find one?"

"The factories?"

Spot snorted a laugh. "A job. Find a job?"

"Oh." Lucy felt her face flush a thousand degrees. "Yeah, just a clothing shop, I'm helpin' out the owner with some of the pieces, sewing, all that stuff…"

"Very nice. Beats the factory, that's for sure, right?"

It was a smile this time. Definitely a smile.

"Definitely." Lucy smiled as well.

"So, ya must be hungry then, right?" proposed Spot.

Lucy felt the need to say yes even if she wasn't hungry. It was his eyes. It was the pull they had on her. The more she looked, the harder she would have to fight to turn away. "Yeah, I guess I'm a little hungry."

"Care to join me? I heard of a little restaurant a block away from heah." In the slightest, his body was orienting towards her.

She heard Jack's voice in her head, the voice of reason, telling her this boy was dangerous, this boy was someone she should not be around. She knew this, in the back of her mind, and in clear conscience, she knew this. _'Cause you don't need to know him and he don't need to know you. _That was Jack's warning, his giant red flag about Spot Conlon._. _

Yet even the calm Lucy, her conscience, was silent for this; it didn't say a word. So Lucy, paralyzed, found herself responding with a smile, "I'd love to."

* * *

Before you come egg my apartment for such a late update, please blame Microsoft Word for randomly losing HALF of this document that I had to re-type from memory. It makes it much harder to rewrite this when I have to really be "in it" to write this particular story, especially because I'm storing future chapters already. Boo, Microsoft Word, boo.


	9. First Taste

"So what brings you to Manhattan?" asked Lucy once they had sat down.

She was stiff in her cushioned side of the booth, her ankles crossed tightly together and her back almost straight as an arrow. Spot was the opposite; his muscular forearms sat comfortably on the table's surface, connecting his hands together so that only his fingertips touched each other. His upper body, Lucy noted, still seemed as if it were leaning towards her. Tempting her.

Spot shrugged at her question. His face did that crooked smile that made her think he was up to something. "Business. What brings _you_ to Manhattan?"

"I was in an orphanage in Boston before I, uh, decided to _not_ be an orphan anymore…" As soon as she said it, she felt how stupid it sounded, wondering why she had chosen to sound alluring and then ended up sounding completely ridiculous.

But Spot laughed. "So ya ran away, huh? How'd ya do it?"

Lucy smiled. "Chimney sweep helped me out. Climbed up and headed for the train station."

"_Touche_. I'm impressed, Lucy."

She tried to hide her smile and looked down. Her back loosened the tension a little. He never took his eyes off her.

"So why New York? Aside from it being the best city in the world," he asked. But the look on his face made Lucy think he really knew why she was there but he was playing dumb. She didn't know where this feeling came from; but the more she looked at him, the more that suspicion faded.

"My, uh, brother, actually. Jack Kelly." She needn't say any more, but she added, "I thought you knew everything?"

He sat back in his seat -- put in his place -- and smiled. They stared at each other before he dismissively said, "Jack Kelly, huh?" He cleared his throat. "That's a…a hell of a family to come from."

She smiled. "Yeah, I like to think so. I saw his picture in the paper from the strike when I was at the orphanage, and when I saw that, I just…I mean, six years was too long without seeing anyone from my family. So I _concocted _a plan to get out…and here I am."

"So ya saw me then, right?"

"…What?"

"In the paper. I'se in that picture too, Jack ain't the only one in there."

"No, I know…" Lucy felt frazzled. Her mind threw into her consciousness the comment Ginger had made about the picture. _These two on the right…one's got an eye patch, the other's wearin' suspenders…Not too bad, Luce. Not bad at all! _Her eyes flew to Spot's red suspenders.

"Yeah, I saw you. Next to Blink, right?" Lucy was astounded she had recalled that information. Perhaps it was that she felt so nervous around him. Things just flew into her mind.

Spot's smirking expression took over his face again. "Yeah, that's me. So you'se Jack's kid sister then."

"I'm not his _kid_ sister."

"Course not. You ain't a kid, that's for sure…"

Lucy felt his eyes wander ever so quickly over her body. The waiter then interrupted the moment and brought two waters to their table. He took out his pen and notepad, waiting for their orders. Spot's order had rolled off the tip of his tongue mechanically, as if it had been his usual, since he hadn't glanced once at the menu. Lucy took the menu into her cold hands. Her eyes flew frantically around the page, and they didn't stay in one place long enough for her to comprehend a single word. Why was she acting like this? Why couldn't she suddenly just read? It wasn't like she was illiterate!

Spot's hand reached over the table and slipped the menu from her grasp. He handed it to the waiter and said smoothly, "Make that two."

"Sorry…it's been a long day," said Lucy. She looked up at him.

He now rested his chin on his hand, his arm upright from the table. Why did he do that, just move without her even noticing? He smiled, almost on the verge of laughing. "You're so cute, Lucy. Bundle 'a nerves."

Lucy breathed a laugh, disguising it as a huge sigh. "I'm just a little exhausted."

"If you was exhausted, you'd be cranky," he implied. He took a swig of his water. "You ain't cranky."

"Well, you caught me then, I'm not really all that exhausted…" She felt him pick up on her nervousness.

"No worries, Lucy. You're in good hands," he assured.

Fortunately for Lucy, she did not have to wait much longer and sit through more uncomfortable conversation before their food arrived. She hadn't realized just how hungry she had been, until the food felt like it was hitting the bottom of an empty bucket as it made its way down. She felt more at ease now that she had something else to concentrate on. Something other than Spot Conlon.

"So, tell me…" began Spot, breaking the silence. "What exactly were you doin' on the rooftop?"

Lucy swallowed her food. "Not jumping."

Spot laughed. "I know, I know."

"I dunno, I was just…I haven't been back here in years, and I'd been talkin' the whole night, meeting all these people, just wanted to…" Her fingers danced around as she sought the right word.

"Escape?" finished Spot.

"Escape. Yeah, that's the word. And the rooftop was quiet. The ledge thing with me lookin' over, that was just…I get into these mindsets where I -- I lose my head fer a minute and do somethin' stupid. I've done it for years, it's weird."

"Well, it's the rush."

Lucy was pleasantly taken aback at his word choice. "Yes. Exactly. The rush, the feeling, it's strange but it's crazy."

Spot nodded wordlessly, knowingly. Again his eyes were penetrating hers, and she was dizzy. She grabbed her water for solace and took huge gulps. The waiter brought around the check at the notice of their empty plates. Lucy had hardly noticed she had eaten so much so fast. She reached around the pockets of her dress for coins, but Spot had already handed the money to the waiter for both their meals. She had not seen that coming.

"Oh, are you sure? I have --"

Spot held up his hand to stop her. "My pleasure."

She smiled, careful again not to smile too large and give herself away. "Well, that's very sweet of you. Thanks."

He winked.

He smiled his crooked smile.

Had Lucy been standing, she would have fallen right to the ground. Head over heels, face-planted.

But she merely melted in her seat, and felt an eruption of butterflies flutter in her stomach.

Time seemed to have suddenly flown by in the blink of an eye. When they stepped out of the restaurant, there were already men walking on stilts to light the street corners. Spot had placed his hand on her back as they walked further away from the restaurant. In no time at all, Lucy spotted the statue of Horace Greeley in the distance. The lodging house was not far now. She suddenly thought of Jack and felt nervous that other newsies would be around.

"Look, I should probably--"

"Yeah, we don't want trouble," interrupted Spot, as if he had read her mind.

Lucy smiled and looked down. "Right. Thank you again…I had a nice time."

"Like I said, Lucy, my pleasure." He smiled with his lips and eyes as he turned to walk away. "See ya around, then."

"…Bye…"

Lucy took a moment as he walked in the other direction. She exhaled all the pent up air she had been saving from the moment she saw him on the street corner. She felt utterly weightless, that a simple wind would send her to her knees. Her mind was dizzy recollecting the events of the evening. She got it together and started walking.

Jack was outside the lodging house with the other newsies she had also met recently: Skittery and Mush. The usual boys Race and Blink were there as well, and sitting on the steps was David. He looked up, smiling his friendly smile at her. He waved, and she waved back.

"Welcome back, Sully," said Race, putting his arm around her shoulder in a brotherly way. "Mind if I call ya that from now on?"

Lucy snorted a laugh. "No, go right ahead."

"Ya find a job yet? Tell me it ain't a factory job," asked Jack.

She shook her head. "No, actually --"

"You ain't a dancer at the social club, then, right?" interrupted Blink, eyeing her suspiciously.

"What? No!"

He started laughing. "Alright, good. Woulda had to kill if that happened."

Skittery made a weird face in reaction. "Nice, Blink."

Lucy rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I'm workin' on sewing and fixing clothes at this shop a few blocks up that way. Not bad considering I almost gave in to the factories."

"Very nice," complimented Jack. "Where ya been all this time? You was out that late lookin' for the job?"

Lucy felt a pang of reality. She was with the only boy Jack didn't want her to know. She had to lie. Must lie. "Yeah, she had me get started already…I don't really have hours set for everyday…She also got me a place to live, so I'll be outta here starting tomorrow."  
"Ah shit, we're getting' old," said Jack.

Lucy breathed a nervous laugh. "Yeah, I guess…But I'm gonna go ahead inside, then. See you all tomorrow."

Lucy closed her eyes walking through the lobby, muttering quiet curses under her breath. She told herself it was fine, that she would be fine. It was just dinner. It wasn't like they had fallen in love in a style that was all Romeo & Juliet, that they now were going to kill themselves in order to be together. They had been introduced on their own accord, and made conversation.

That was quite all.

Until she suddenly felt his eyes gazing at her again, followed by his smirking smile, his body leaning towards her.

She felt hazy and dizzy, without thinking, just feeling. It was a sublime feeling, what he had done to her.

_Tingles._

She wanted more. It was her first taste of Brooklyn, and she already knew she hadn't had enough.

* * *

A/N: Yum.

* * *


	10. Glimpse

Lucy had arrived earlier than Molly for her first day of work. She sat upright on the steps leading up to the front door of the shop watching the rest of the city walk past her. She felt like she had achieved a tiny victory. She was getting older, becoming responsible. Her mother would have been proud.

There it was again. Her mother. She saw her smiling as she hugged her four-year old self. It wasn't a distinct memory. Just a feeling. Most memories of her mother were never very clear; they were rather very hazy. Lucy was very young when she died.

Lost in the whirlwind of her own mind, Lucy hardly noticed Molly walking in her direction to the shop. Her thick Irish accent gave it away, ringing in earshot.

"No, no, no, no, _no_ child, I don't want ya sittin' on my stoop like some beggar!" she complained, motioning emphatically for her to get up.

Lucy obeyed, jumping up at once. Molly dug through her dress pockets and fished out a ring of keys. She glared suspiciously at Lucy before turning around and unlocking the door.

"Next time that happens, you sit your arse right down on the bench over there…" said Molly, pointing behind her blindly.

Lucy bit her lip and nodded. As soon as Molly opened the front door she made a beeline for the workroom in the back of the shop and sat down, waiting for instructions. As usual, Molly spoke a million miles a minute as she bustled around hurriedly, with Lucy tripping to keep up with her. It took only a few minutes for her to clarify what needed to be done for the day. So when she went back to the workshop, she set up all the dress forms with minor damages to them and started the mending process.

A stitch here, a snip there, a loose button in the front, a torn seam inside. It was easy as pie. And before she realized it, it was already noon. Her fingers suddenly throbbed upon seeing the time -- not because the work was difficult, but because the work was meticulous and precise. Lucy knew she had a natural ability with this. There was even a time she had fixed a few of Ms. Carrigan's clothes, until she purposefully sewed the arm holes of her sleeves shut one time. She had had to go a week without breakfast after that one.

Lucy smirked to herself in delight reliving the memory.

By the end of the day, she swore her fingers had swelled twice their size. The bones ached, and bending her fingers sounded like a rusty, creaking door. It was nearly eight o'clock when Molly entered the workroom. She took a look at all of Lucy's work, examining the dress forms individually, before nodding satisfactorily and shooing her away.

* * *

It was almost pathetic, Lucy felt, that it didn't take anyone else to help her move in to her apartment. All she had was her suitcase of clothes and other little knick-knacks. But David, Jack, and Sarah had offered their sincere help after they had eaten dinner that night at the Jacobs's apartment. Lucy had insisted there wasn't a lot to move, but Esther had scoured their home looking for things that may help her feel more at home. So Sarah carried a vase of flowers and a blanket, Jack a few candles, and David some extra food and dinnerware.

"I feel bad, your mom didn't have to go through the trouble…" said Lucy.

"She doesn't mind, I'm sure she loved it," replied David encouragingly. "She really likes you."

"Well, I like her too, then." She smiled at David, who smiled first at her and then looked at the ground. Lucy held back a snicker -- part of her thought it was funny the way David acted around her. She looked behind her where Jack and Sarah were trailing nearly half a block.

"I hope she likes Jack, too…It don't look like they're separating any time soon," said Lucy.

David looked back, and his smile lost part of its humor. It was the first time Lucy noted his protectiveness over Sarah, even if it was Jack, his best friend. It was the first time Lucy really realized Sarah was David's little sister.

"Yeah, Jack's practically part of the family. I mean, not in the way where he's my actual brother…that would make Sarah…" replied David.

"Yeah, that'd be strange, don't'cha think?" joked Lucy.

David shuddered. "And illegal. Anyway. You've got nothin' to worry about. You both are always welcome. I'm sure you don't even have to knock on the front door anymore."

They turned the corner and it came into Lucy's memory that the restaurant where she and Spot had eaten dinner was coming into view. She responded to this physically, remembering the way he looked at her, and she pressed her lips together to disguise her smug smile. She looked at David through the corners of her eyes, and she realized he was completely unaware of her date with the notorious Brooklynite. Part of her felt like she was breaking a rule and that she should feel ashamed and disappointed with herself.

But Lucy liked to break rules, even when she knew they would have horrible repercussions; and in that moment, when she looked at David, oblivious and walking at her side, the friendliest boy she had met here in New York, and with Jack walking behind them, without any clue just who she had dined with the night before -- in that moment, it was exhilarating, the rush, because she knew firsthand how good it felt to be bad. No matter how bad the consequences, the adrenaline was addictive.

Through her smirking lips, Lucy exhaled. They were about to pass the restaurant, and Lucy's eyes were fighting to look away from the windows. She couldn't control them, though. They were jumping from table to table, scanning the patrons inside to see if the one her eyes were chasing was present.

"I think we should wait for them to catch up," said David, stopping in front of the restaurant. He stood facing the opposite direction, waiting for Jack and Sarah. "They could easily get lost here."

David's voice broke her into reality. She stopped walking eventually and trotted over to David's side, all the while her eyes sneaking glances into the restaurant. She didn't see him. She looked in the direction of David's eyes and suddenly felt silly for searching for Spot. Why would he be in there? It was so frivolous and stupid the way she hoped he'd be in there. _How ridiculous_, said Lucy's inner calm. She swatted above her head as if her inner voice took on actual form. _I know, I know, gimme a break, _she thought.

After a few moments Jack and Sarah appeared around the corner. David's face, again, seemed somewhat forced, that protection taking over. Lucy knew that's how Jack must have felt about her. She liked the way David was so protective because it meant that innately, David was a good person. But in a second, David had come back from that forced smile he had and he seemed perfectly fine.

"Oh I heard 'a this place…" said Jack to Sarah, pointing to the restaurant Lucy stood in front of as they walked closer to them. "I guess they got some good food, we should go sometime."

"Sounds like a good idea," replied Sarah. She linked her arm into his, and once the four of them were together, they continued walking.

Molly had been right about Emma, the girl she had fired before hiring Lucy -- all of her personal things were gone once they arrived at the apartment. All that was left in the room was a bed, a nightstand, and a three-drawer dresser on the opposite side of the room. Directly across the doorframe was a window that had been left open, its shudders opening into the room like welcoming arms, creating an all-too symbolic view of the city. It also only took four steps to get from the door to the window.

"Pretty tiny there, Lucy," teased Jack.

Sarah hit his chest with the back of her hand in a playful scold, and set the flowers she had been carrying on the middle of the windowsill. "It's _cozy_."

Lucy laughed and tossed her suitcase onto the bed, sliding herself on and letting her feet dangle playfully off the edge of the mattress. "Fine, you ain't welcome here anymore, Jack."

He rolled his eyes and put the candles at various spots in the room -- on the nightstand, the floor, and the dresser. Sarah unrolled the blanket and set it at the edge of the bed. Lucy watched as she helped to make the room less unsightly, and helped Lucy feel more at home. Jack struck a match to light a few of the candles. David pulled a book out of his back pocket and put it in the drawer of the nightstand.

"I'm not sure if you read much, but I used it a few years back in school," he said. "It's just some poems and short stories. I've read 'em all three or four times already."

Lucy smiled gratefully, though she wasn't sure if she would ever really read much of them. But still, the thought was endearing, and she thanked him. As they were about to leave for the evening, after David and Sarah left the room, Jack stayed back and dug around his shirt pocket. He fished out a small paper that looked like it had been in his pocket for years. He handed it to her amidst the folds and wrinkles, and said, "I'se had it all these years. I feel bad ya nevah had a picture of 'em."

Lucy stared at two young people, her mother and father, in a photograph that was taken around the time they were married. Lucy was unsure how to react -- she looked at the two of them, hoping she could form clear mental pictures of her own that matched up with the portrait of these two.

"Hm… said Lucy finally, squinting her eyes and cocking her head. She looked at her mother searching for recognition. "We look nothin' like her."

Jack simply shrugged. It was not a painful realization, nor was the conversation overwrought with emotion, as if they were about to get into deeply personal issues with which both of them struggled everyday. Their mother had died when Lucy was four, and Jack was six, and their father was taken away four years after that. Lucy had plenty of memories of her father but they were none to the caliber of the random memories she had been having lately of her mother. She remembered her smiling and hugging her even when she was just four years old, and they were more like glimpses rather than realities.

She remembered times with her father, William Sullivan, but he had been arrested and sent to prison when she was eight years old. Though she could recall things he had taught her, or could retell stories of him, she never felt his presence today the way she did with her mother. It was hard for her to recall her parents in a memory together, and it was as if William, the father she had so many stories about, came along after her mother had died.

"This is nice, I'll keep it on my nightstand," said Lucy optimistically, propping it up against the base of the candle. "I guess you can stop by and say hello to 'em every once in a while."

Jack laughed. "A'right, sounds good."

After Jack told her the very best ways to keep the door locked and herself safe if anything should happen, Lucy sat on the windowsill, with one leg inside and the other dangling onto the sloping rooftop. Though her window faced another building and overlooked an alleyway, she could still see the streets, and even Jack, David, and Sarah walking away in the distance. She could also see the restaurant. The restaurant was shockingly close to where she lived and worked. Had it always been that close? If she squinted hard enough, she could make out tiny images of people sitting inside or standing around the outside door.

Was he there? Had she somehow missed him when they passed it? She felt as if there was no reason why he _shouldn't _be in that restaurant. He seemed to have gone there an awful lot if he knew the menu. _Yes_, she told herself. _He's there_.

And Lucy could make out his form, standing outside, near the light of the window, standing with one hand gripping the gold tip of his cane and the other resting on top of it, smiling crookedly, and talking with this friends who smoked cigarettes and cracked obscene jokes to which they all laughed, standing there in front of the restaurant in Manhattan, not Brooklyn, _Manhattan_. There -- _here_ he was, in such close proximity, so very close to her.

She squinted hard, as hard as she could. She saw him. But when she came to her senses, when she came back down, her eyes were completely closed. _Was _he there? She had no idea. It was just an image in her mind, a picture she had seen inside her head. The form she saw was a figment that merely glimpsed in her mind.

Lucy shook her head. She swung her leg over the windowsill and into the room. She slid out of her shoes and made up her bed. She got into her nightgown, blew out the candles, and tried her best to fall asleep peacefully.

* * *

A/N: I looked up the word "glimpse" in the dictionary to make sure I was using it accurately. Say it to yourself a dozen times and you'll swear it's just gibberish...


	11. Rebel

The following days progressed into weeks. Lucy had gotten her routine down pat now. She got up six days a week for work, occasionally took her meals with the Jacobs family, and went to sleep soundly in her comfortable new apartment. She was living life and loving it.

Until one morning, Lucy woke up in a cold sweat. She bolted upright to a seated position, her heart racing wildly, and in her disorientation between sleep and reality she was terrified. In her mind, she replayed the dream she had been having that caused such a state of panic.

She was in a forest or woods with plenty of trees and she had been walking peacefully on a trail. There was the sound of a waterfall and it was alluring, so she walked to its rhythmic beats until she found it. She was on top of a rock, a ledge, and when she looked over it, she realized the water was rushing just underneath her feet. She didn't know why but she was innately elated and euphoric at this sight, and she wanted to share it with someone. But as soon as she turned around to find someone, a black figure -- perhaps an animal, or hunter, or anything -- grabbed hold of her body and hurled her off the edge of the cliff.

Awake, Lucy held her face in her hands and shook her head until she was completely engulfed in the real world. She looked around her small room. She was in bed, in her nightgown, her candle was blown out, and the window was closed. These were unchanging things that helped her relax. She crawled over and opened the window to find merchants in the distance setting up their carts for the day. It was time for her to wake up and get ready for work.

For the rest of the day, Lucy tried her best not to let the dream plague her. She did not want to delve too far into its hidden meanings, but it still gave her the frights. She had just been so terrified when she woke up, and the way she was so scared had startled her. She shook her head and went back to work -- there was a dress that needed mending hanging on the form in front of her.

Molly bustled into the room near dinnertime. She had four separate garments in her arms and she draped each of them over the table. Lucy said nothing as she put the final touches onto the dress she had been working on.

"Alright, then, are ya done with that one yet?" asked Molly. Before giving Lucy a chance to answer, she grabbed the form and spun it around, inspecting the stitching with a keen eye. She nodded and said, to Lucy's surprise, "Well done, then. Off ya go, I've got these special orders to do and no room to do it!"

Lucy sat upright, surprised. It was nearly two hours before she normally was sent home, and she could not help the growing grin on her face, even in front of Molly. The Irish woman rolled her eyes and started tapping Lucy's back to move her along.

"Off ya go, child, off ya go, don't expect this to happen everyday now, a'right!"

Lucy simply laughed happily as she walked out of the shop. It smelled like it was about to rain outside, and the sky was a single, clean shade of gray. It was as though the city was simply waiting in anticipation for rain to come. Yet Lucy inhaled deeply the fresh, sweet-smelling air and began walking down the street. She and Jack had planned on meeting for dinner after she had gotten off work, and since she was let go early, she figured she would stop by the Jacobs's apartment to see if Esther and Sarah needed any help around the house.

While she walked in that direction, her stomach fluttered like it always did when she rounded the street corner she always turned onto to get to the Jacobs's street. It was the street where the restaurant was located. She had passed it nearly everyday in her walk to and from her own apartment, and everyday she snuck a glance inside to see if he was there. Yet she had not seen Spot since their dinner. He had not contacted her in any way, and her interest in him was beginning to wane. It did not, however, take away from the fact that she still hoped beyond hope they would run into each other again.

A block after she had passed the restaurant, though, she stopped in her tracks. She turned back around and felt her feet move faster than her mind could think. A block later, she found herself opening the door of the restaurant and panning the room. No Spot. After a few suspicious looks from the waiters, she turned and left again.

Instead of walking directly towards the Jacobs's apartment, she found herself wandering aimlessly around Manhattan. She was not thinking, only walking. She found herself at the outermost edges of Manhattan where the docks of the Hudson river were located, as was the Brooklyn bridge. She looked out at the long structure that did not seem to have an end, yet there was an entirely different world visible. It was a world where Spot resided, where he lived and breathed, where his newsies, she had learned, were the toughest, most respected in the city, and they were all at his command.

She inhaled the air again, for the scent of rain was lingering still. She stared across the bridge again and felt a little silly searching for something that may not be there at all. So she gave up, heard a rumble of thunder in the distance, and started walking back the way she had come.

"…I mean, I don' think they'se gonna be able to help at all…"

Suddenly Lucy's ears rang at the sound of the familiar voice.

"Yeah, well, let's just entertain the idea for 'em, a'right?"

"No, I don' think I'm gonna drag this out anymore."

Lucy stopped at the corner of the block and a moment later, Spot came into view. His eyes glanced at her at first, and not a second later did he look back again. His eyes burned into hers and he turned to face her completely. The other boy with whom he was talking walked a few paces and then stopped, outwardly annoyed that they had been interrupted.

"Long time no see, Lucy," he said temptingly.

Lucy merely shrugged and smiled, unsure of what to say.

"It's nice bumpin' into you again too, thanks," joked Spot at the absence of her reply.

"I'm sorry. How ya been?"

"Better now that I'se finally met up with you again, where ya been?" His stare was boring into her, like he could read her innermost thoughts with just his eyes.

"I've been here, where've you been?" she countered.

The boy smacked at Spot's arm to get his attention. "We gotta head back, Conlon, c'mon…"

"You go ahead, I'll met up with ya later," he replied dismissively.

"What, seriously? We gotta --"

"Hey." Spot turned and glared wordlessly at him. The boy stared back but eventually backed down and turned in the other direction. Spot returned to Lucy with his crooked, subtle smile. He grabbed her arm, linked it with his, and by his direction they began walking into the city.

"What brings you to Manhattan this time?" asked Lucy.

"Business," he replied automatically. He smiled first and then turned his head towards her as if it completed the response she was seeking.

"I see. What kinda business?"

"You'se a curious little thing, ain't ya?"

Lucy made a face. "Curious? No, I was just wonderin'…"

"Well, what were you doin' at the docks? Lookin' for a new job already?" he teased.

"Look who's curious _now_," retaliated Lucy.

Spot was amusedly taken aback. "Alright then. I won't make ya admit you was lookin' for me."

"What? I was not!"

"Right, right, tryin' to get the guts to cross the bridge, eh?"

"No," she felt her cheeks flush bright red, "if I was goin' lookin' for ya I wouldn't wait this long. _And_ I don't need guts to get me to cross some stupid bridge, I can do it all by myself." Once she finished speaking, she felt a little vulnerable that he had actually figured her out so quickly.

Spot laughed to himself. "You got a point, I guess. I just figured your brother woulda warned ya 'bout me and that's why we ain't seen each other fer so long."

Lucy hesitated to answer. He was partially right. "He doesn't need to protect me as much as he thinks he does…" she said elusively.

"Really? 'Cause I'd be dead in a heartbeat if I evah came close to even touchin' you."

He had a point. In fact, he was spot on. Jack would kill Spot if he ever found out. Lucy's arm came into her conscience then once she realized it was wrapped around his. She jabbed him in the side with her elbow and said, "Little late for that, don't ya think?"

Spot laughed. "So you'se curious _and _a rebel. Goin' behind the big brother's back, escapin' from an orphanage…"

"And rooftops, remember?" added Lucy, and she suddenly surprised even herself for coming up with an addition to his compliment. It was a different side of herself, a confidence she never thought she would have around him.

"Yes, I remembah the rooftop."

They entered a crowded marketplace and Lucy was bumped completely off her guard, and her arm lost grip of Spot. But she felt Spot's arm catch her from straying too far, and he brought her back up to his side. He held her to his chest with both arms wrapped around her securely for a split second. He looked down at her and said, "And clumsy, I'll remembah that too."

He let go of his embrace and as their arms fell to their sides, he gripped her hand and lead her through the crowd easily, weaving in and out without any problems. Lucy had looked down the entire time they made their way through, not to watch her own feet so that she did not trip on anything, but to hide the smile that would not leave her face.

Once they left the market and the air was clearer and the space was more open, Spot let go of her hand. She looked up and was put off by the sudden change in Spot's demeanor -- his face was serious, hard almost, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he stared straight ahead. Lucy followed his line of vision and saw the statue of Horace Greeley with a few newsies here and there. She hadn't recognized any of them from afar, but something inside her made her wish she had gotten completely lost in the crowd again.

She thought of Jack and felt the guilt.

"So this is where you can either say goodbye again, or we can find a way around this," proposed Spot, still watching ahead of him, refusing to show his association with her.

Lucy picked up quickly that she might be dangerous to him as well…

She smiled in spite of herself and said, "You think ya know me so well, you should know I like breakin' rules."

Spot snapped his head towards her, and she grabbed his wrist, leading him into the crowd again. As they swam against the grain of moving, sweating, heaving bodies, Lucy had the tightest grip on Spot, not wanting at all to let him go. A roll of thunder growled distantly. Lucy picked up the pace until she and Spot ended up on the other side of the market, safely away from the usual hangout spots of the Manhattan newsies.

"Well, then," Spot looked up into the darkening sky. "Now what, smarty-pants?"

Lucy scanned their location. "I think we're close to where I work…just a few blocks in that direction."

"Oh, that's nice, I always wanted a new dress to wear…" said Spot sarcastically.

She hit his chest. "No, I live above the dress shop, didn't I tell ya that?"

Spot searched his memory, placing his hands on his hips. "No. Woulda remembered that."

"Oh. Well, I do." Lucy didn't think she would go for it then, but the words suddenly shot out of her mouth, "Wanna go see it?"

Spot's eyes flew to hers, and he did not have to say a thing.

Lucy recovered swiftly, "I mean…it's startin' to rain…" She felt an inviting, subtle grin slowly form on her mouth, and she realized it was the confidence doing the acting again. It was her inner rebel.

A corner of Spot's lips pulled upward, and he placed his hand on her back, walking the both of them forward. "I guess I got the time fer that."

* * *

A/N: Yeah...you _would_ make time for that, Mr. Crooked Smile-Leaning Towards You-Smirking Face-Blue Eyes-Conlon.


	12. Hooked

As the two of them walked to the apartment, Lucy's pulse beat rapidly, faster, faster, faster, with every step she took. They said nothing and Lucy had not even realized the silence for she was too busy trying to relax her spinning mind. Even her calm self was quiet, for it had nothing to say, no advice to spit out, no words of encouragement.

What had she just done? Invite the enemy over to _play_?

Was she making a huge mistake?

What did he think they were going to actually _do _there?

Lucy struck a nervous glance in his direction too fast for him to notice.

Why, _why _did this confidence have to surface so quickly? She had no time to prepare for this kind of situation!

A sudden crack of lightning brought her back down to earth. The rain started pouring down and the raindrops were so huge Lucy felt every little splash they made against her skin. It was refreshing. Spot gripped her closer to him as if the rain would somehow drive them apart. Lucy felt safer even though no element of real danger existed. She just felt safe, even next to the one person in the world Jack had told her to stay away from. It was an anomaly.

"I'm warnin' you, it's a pretty tight space," said Lucy as she jammed her key into the door, her hands drenched and shaking nervously.

"I live in a bunkroom. Any place is bettah than that."

The calmness in his voice was soothing. Really, he could have said just about anything in that voice and she would have been okay.

Then she felt his hand on her back. He was playing with her long, chestnut brown, sopping wet hair.

"Your hair curls in the rain…" he said, trailing, as if it were a thought that had accidentally escaped his mind.

Lucy closed her eyes and felt her back quiver and her spine tingle for a moment. She finally turned the knob and opened the door. "So this is it…" she announced, thankful for the respite.

"Aw, it's so cozy," he said in an animated voice.

Lucy laughed anxiously as she moved towards the dresser. She lit the candle and walked over to her nightstand to light the one on top of it. Spot reached across her stomach and grabbed the photograph of her parents.

"These your folks?"

"Yeah."

"You _knew_ them?"

"Yeah…" The way Lucy answered made it sound as though he asked a stupid question, and she immediately wanted to take it back. "I mean --"

"Nevah knew mine," he said quickly in a flat tone. "That's nice, though," he said about the photograph and put it back down.

Lucy was too nervous to look him in the eye, even though he seemed completely comfortable and relaxed. To distract herself from her nerves, she moved from one thing to the next. She dropped the matchbook onto the nightstand and made her way to the window. She picked up the vase of flowers, opened the window, and stuck her arm out into the rain to gather water inside the vase.

"Sorry it ain't as exciting as the marketplace…" she said above the pouring down rain.

"That's alright, I like it heah."

When Lucy came back inside, Spot was right behind her. It wasn't that her room was that tiny; he was _deliberately_ that close to her. She bumped into his chest, said, "Oh!" in a quiet, high-pitched tone, and scooted around him to set the flowers onto the dresser. She began to move again to do something else, but Spot placed his hands on her arms and slowly rotated her to face him.

"Stop."

Lucy looked up at him, feeling tiny. He smiled her favorite subtle smile. The tension in her body started to melt away. He ran his fingers through a few strands of her hair, his fingertips lightly grazing her cheek.

"Your hair curls when you're in the rain," he stated again, as if she had not heard him the first time. He let his fingers dance around her now chocolate-colored hair.

"…Is that good or bad?"

He breathed a quick, quiet laugh. "Good." He tucked the hair behind her ear. "Always good."

Smiling and feeling her cheeks flush, she looked down and noticed her right foot stood awkwardly over the other, a nervous habit she never knew she had.

Spot raised her chin upward with this finger so that she faced him. His eyes were reigning her in again and they were intent this time and serious. Calm Lucy was silent. Speechless. She, once again, had nothing to say, and all Lucy could hear was the beat of her own heart.

"If this is wrong I'm countin' on you to stop it," he said suddenly. His voice was low and scratchy.

Lucy paused, furrowing her eyebrows. His face suddenly seemed not as charmed as it had been when he had run his eyes and fingers through her hair.

"What d'you mean?" she asked.

"Me an' you…You'se a Kelly. Er Sullivan, er whatevah…"

Lucy's entire body stopped moving for a second. She blinked. He dropped his hand from beneath her chin. She looked to the side, puzzled. Her mind was blank -- it had been running by itself, letting her enjoy those last few moments physically that she had not been thinking at all. Now her mind struggled to form anything.

"'Cause I don't wanna get us in trouble is all, an' you know what'd happen if…ya know…" he trailed.

Lucy took a step back. Why the _hell_ would he bring up Jack at that specific moment? She suddenly felt really angry. And stupid. And guilty, especially guilty.

"…Ya know what I mean?" he finished flatly.

She still had trouble coming up with something to say. Her body was now orienting away from him, towards the window and the downpour of rain. Her arms came up and crossed over her chest, her shoulders raising into a stiff shrug. She was no longer nervous in anticipation, but awkward and uncomfortable, and in a very strange way, she felt unwanted.

Spot reached out and very quickly ran his fingers down a chunk of her hair, to which she hardly noticed. Her eyes darted towards his, and he looked down. He dropped his mouth and said, looking down and fingering her hair like a toy, "I'm gonna go." He let go and made his way to the door.

Lucy then felt completely rejected.

But she was not going to have that.

Without thinking -- once again -- she marched over and created a barrier between Spot and the door just as he was reaching for the knob. His eyes were curious as he looked at her. Lucy felt a sly smile on her face and she grabbed his shirt collar. In a hushed voice as if about to divulge a secret, she said, "I won't tell if you won't tell."

Spot lifted an intrigued eyebrow. He looked at her eyes that were suddenly so very brave.

And that smirk, the smirk that could pass for a smile, that suspicious look Lucy had committed to memory, snuck its way onto his face.

"I won't say a word," he agreed.

Even his words could smirk.

Lucy felt the rush of adrenaline she loved so much. She felt her heart pumping and her nerves raking through her stomach. Here it was. Another way to release the adrenaline. Another way to get that high. And what a delicious way to achieve it…

She tightened her grip on his collar and pulled his lips to hers in a hard kiss. His hands flew to her hips, gripping them tightly. Her mind began spiraling until all her thoughts flew out the window carelessly, her inner calm silenced for good, until all she could concentrate on was his hands on her body and his lips against hers and his body leaning into her chest as her arms slithered up and around his neck.

"I'm still countin' on you to stop 'cause I don't think I can," he said.

Without missing a beat, she shot back in response, "_No_."

She felt him smirk against her lips as he said quietly, "Good."

And just like that, Lucy was hooked.

* * *

A/N: And now it gets interesting.


	13. In Bliss

Jack eyed Lucy suspiciously from across the table.

She stirred her spoon blissfully around her coffee, paying no attention to how the sugar had dissolved minutes ago.

"You alright?" asked Jack slowly. "Still feel sick?"

"Hm?" She looked up as if she were a child who had been in the middle of daydreaming. She had forgotten to continue her act of illness for the past few days -- it was why she told Jack she had not met him for dinner. "No, I'm feeling better."

"Oh. Okay. Somethin's weird with you." Jack's face was semi-serious and he rotated his head so that he could only see her out of the corner of his eyes. "You're actin' funny."

Lucy straightened up in her chair at Tibby's restaurant. Her undeniably "chipper" mood was detectable; there was no doubt about that. She knew exactly why, of course, but she was not going to spill the beans that easily to Jack. She simply put on an oblivious smile and replied, "It's just a good day is all."

Jack looked outside at the sheets of rain pouring buckets from the gray sky. In fact, it had not stopped raining since the storm that sent Lucy and Spot inside in the first place. Jack shook his head and took a sip of coffee.

"Alright, I'll take yer word for it. It's only been miserable weather fer the past week but I can see how it's a good day…"

Lucy was at first put off by his comment. His tone was rather cutting. But when she looked at him in response, he simply smiled innocently, and that was her cue that he was just teasing. Her heart settled knowing her secret was still safe between herself and Spot, and she decided to make herself somewhat more cynical now, like a real New Yorker.

"I mean you're right, the weather's been a hassle," she balanced. "But I guess I haven't done enough walkin' around to really notice. I've only been from my room to work to here in the last week anyway…"

"Yeah, try sellin' papes in the rain an' _then_ you can wipe that starry-eyed look off yer face." Jack bitterly bit into his roll.

"_You_ alright now?" asked Lucy, noting his aggression towards an innocent breakfast food was slightly out of character for him.

Jack's lips spread flatly into his cheeks and he shrugged. "Just some newsie stuff. Brooklyn mostly."

Lucy perked up inside but she kept herself in check. This was the exact time she knew she had to start putting on an act. She replied in a clueless tone, "Oh?" and then played it up with dramatic repetition, "_Oh_. _Brooklyn_. I see…"

Jack nodded at her indication that they were on the same page. "Exactly. No real problems. Brooklyn just rubs me the wrong way sometimes."

Lucy continued her façade by nodding understandingly. "If ya don't mind me asking," said Lucy, unable to help herself, "what happened?"

Jack shook his head to express irritation and to show that something was really causing him a certain level of stress. "Just…you probably wouldn't understand since you ain't a newsie, but there's just some things Brooklyn does sometimes that piss the hell outta me. Mostly it's his cocky attitude that bothers me. He acts like he's got the most important job in the world and he don't need any help from anyone else. Just a son of a bitch sometimes is all. And he's been actin' even more cocky than usual since last time we talked. There's some issues we'se been discussin' and he ain't willin' to compromise nothin'."

Lucy looked down for she was unable to look at Jack face-on anymore. She pressed her lips together and gripped the handle of her coffee mug. Just before bringing the hot liquid to her lips she said absently, looking to the side, "I see…"

Jack shook his head. "Sorry, I'll stop. That's boring shit to get into. Tell me 'bout ya job, I wanna know all about the progress you made and the latest ways Molly's made you feel stupid."

Lucy choked on her coffee. "She's nevah made me feel stupid, what're you talkin' about?"

"Really? Nevah?"

"What're you gettin' at?"

"Ripped dress interview. Loiterin' like a stray outside the shop. Ya told us all 'bout it and acted all cool with it, like it was just a little detail in your story, but I could tell you felt stupid 'bout that stuff. You add it in as an afterthought to make the story bettah, but it's obvious when you get embarrassed. It's funny, you can't hide anythin', I pick up on it so easily," laughed Jack. He leaned back in his chair and yawned, stretching his arms backward, his head falling back as well.

Lucy remained still and felt a bitter sting in her stomach. Her face had paused in the middle of a fading smile with the last words Jack spoke. Her fingers were frozen, curled around the handle of her mug. Jack came out of his stretch and broke off another piece of his roll. Lucy's nerves in her stomach relaxed, and instead she could only hear her pulse thumping in her ears, which was not any better.

She cleared her throat and took a final sip of her coffee. She picked up her umbrella from the floor and got up from the table. "Well, I should be on my way to work…Off to let Molly embarrass me again," she added comically.

"Ha-ha, that's the spirit! I'll see ya later then."

Lucy forced a nervous laugh, "Right, see ya…"

She closed her eyes as she rushed towards the door until she felt the refreshing taste of the air outside.

* * *

"This might be my favorite smell," said David. "I don't know if that's too feminine or not…"

Lucy snorted a quick laugh. But she happened to agree about the smell in the air after it had stopped raining. The two of them stood leaning over the fire escape outside the Jacobs's apartment after having eaten dinner. Summer rainstorms are so peaceful and serene, it hardly seemed necessary that either of them engage in heavy conversation. The silence was not awkward or uncomfortable either.

"I think the air'd smell better if we weren't in the city, though," added David after several moments.

"You think so?"

"Oh yeah. You don't get all the smoke and debris around when you're in the country."

"That's funny, my father used to say the same thing."

"Really?" David sounded quite pleased at the comparison.

"Yeah, he'd sit in front of the open window sometimes just staring at the rain and also when it was over. Me and Jack thought he was crazy."

David laughed lightly.

"I see where he's coming from, though. The rain's pretty when you really look at it."

David sighed contently. He pushed himself from the iron ledge and leaned his back casually against the brick of the building.

Lucy toyed with the ends of her hair that danced lightly in a cool breeze. She looked down, looked at the chestnut brown strands curled into a natural, easy wave, and the mental images of Spot being drawn to them, looking at them as he looked at her temptingly, looking at them as if he could dive right in. And he desired her by the mere touch and feel of those light curls because of the way the rain had made them look and smell, like an aphrodisiac.

Lucy had closed her eyes seeing that afternoon in her mind in fast, beating flashes of memory like the beating of a pulse. She wrapped her hair around her finger and wondered what it was about them that made Spot respond in such a way. She gave up wondering a moment later to simply enjoy it, and if she breathed in the scent of her hair and the rain, she could breathe him in as well.

It was fresh -- the rain. But it was cold in a way. Rain always brought cooler air once it was over, drying her curls out and allowing them to straighten more naturally.

Spot was a different kind of scent, though. He was more like a toxin the way he invaded her mind and made her crazy, so much so that she would forget any problem that ever existed when she breathed him in in person. In person, she could let the toxin overtake her, be it healthy for her or not. She could breathe, see, touch, taste, and let it invigorate her.

But when she could not breathe him in in person she settled for this air, the rain, for the scent of it was just as sweet.

"Think it'll rain again soon?" asked Lucy into the open air.

"Maybe." David looked at her though she gazed out over the fire escape facing away from him. "Hope so."

Lucy dropped the hair from her hand and sighed. "Me too."

* * *

Jack wore the same agitated expression on his face as he had from breakfast when he walked Lucy home from dinner late that evening. It had gotten neither worse nor better, but Lucy could tell he was not thrilled to be concerned with whatever was on his mind.

"Still glad you stayed?" asked Lucy suddenly.

"What?" Jack knitted his eyebrows at the question.

"You were about to leave for Santa Fe after the strike. Do you regret not goin'? God, you've wanted Santa Fe since I think I was born…"

"No…" He lifted his black hat and placed it atop his head and it would seem that if he could not get to Santa Fe, the hat was the closest thing he could manage. "Can't really leave all 'a this."

"Even all that…shit…with the newsies?"

"Shit with Brooklyn," he corrected quickly.

Lucy nodded. "Right. I'm sure he can't be that bad, can he?"

Jack stopped. "Think I can't handle Brooklyn, Luce?"

She immediately stopped and threw her hands up in defense, feeling nervous, that somehow the conversation would shift and her dirty little secret would come spilling out. But Jack smiled slyly, noting his sarcastic demeanor, and they continued walking. Inside her apartment, Lucy lit a match and Jack made a beeline for the bed.

"_A-ha_, this is it," he said as he picked up a corner of the blanket.

Lucy looked behind her shoulder and made a puzzled face. "What…?"

"Esther said this might be why you was feelin' sick. The blanket's pretty thin, she said you might wanna get a different one, 'specially if it's been rainin'."

Lucy forced a smile and her jaws locked tight together. "Maybe…"

Jack dropped the blanket and shrugged. "I dunno. That's just what she said. I'll see ya later."

"See ya." Lucy noticed another nervous habit she had always possessed: along with her feet stepping on top of each other, her thumb and index finger would rub together anxiously, scratching the skin with nail and leaving red marks. She did this until she knew Jack was out of the entire building and practically down the street.

She looked down at her bed but had to look away quickly. She made her way towards her dresser and opened the drawer. Once it was open, she stopped and looked back at the bed. It just sat there, messy and unkempt, the sheets still tight but the blanket loose and carefree and untidy. She turned and confronted the bed, crossing her arms over her chest. Calm Lucy hovered above her head and said, _It's not like you had sex in it._

"But there was definitely some foolin' around goin' on," she argued.

_True. But you don't have to feel _that_ guilty…_

"Right."

…_Yet._

Lucy scoffed and grabbed a hairpin from her dresser. She twisted her long hair around her finger into a ponytail and pinned it loosely so that it was away from her shoulders, wishing it still had a few waves in it. But it was not raining anymore, and the dry air made it straight. As she began unbuttoning the top of her dress, she paused again, for a noise so inaudible that she thought she imagined it resounded in her room. Looking around the room and seeing nothing, she dismissed it and started to unbutton the second button.

Then she heard the noise again. She whirled around and started walking a circle around her room, hoping she was imagining it and it was not a rat lurking around inside. She got down on her hands and knees and lifted her blankets from the floor to check underneath the bed. Nothing.

A third, louder thump resounded and her eyes flew to her window. It was closed, the black evening sky creating a portrait on her wall. She got up, heaved it open and looked down.

"Finally. You goin' deaf?"

Lucy felt a smile slowly work its way onto her face. She folded her arms onto the windowsill and rested her weight on them. "Throwin' rocks at my window. Are you serious?"

Spot's form was practically invisible in the dark. He hesitated but replied, "Fine. I'll leave then."

"No!" reacted Lucy instinctively. "I mean…What're you doin' here? I thought we were gettin' together Saturday night."

"Yeah."

"…So…what d'you…want?" she asked delicately, put on the spot, trying not to sound uninviting. But even if Lucy was in bed, sick and crippled at three o'clock in the morning without having slept for a week, she would have invited Spot inside.

He paused but said slowly, "Seriously…?"

Lucy laughed. "Alright, I s'pose you can come on up."

She shut the window and already felt herself shaking. She was smiling uncontrollably and she moved the way her nerves twitched about in her stomach: fast and unpredictable. She slammed the open dresser drawer closed and lit a kerosene lamp. And though she knew it was quite useless, she hastily smoothed out the blanket on her bed.

She exhaled and brushed some loose hair from her eyes. As she opened the door to walk out and meet him, he was already out there, leaning against the doorframe with his hands resting comfortably between his suspenders and his pants. Lucy felt her heart jump right up to her throat and she grabbed her chest.

"Think it'd be someone else?" joked Spot, smiling crookedly.

Lucy shook her head quickly. "No, no, you just startled me is all."

As she answered, Spot remained looking into her eyes and he gripped her arm, pushing her slightly backwards, closing the door behind him. All of this, while she stuttered away, and still, his eyes, his silvery blue eyes gazing powerfully into hers, pulling her in again.

"So…how was your day…" she struggled for normal conversation. "Anything new goin' on? Over the bridge…"

Spot's eyes rose to her hair as she asked these questions, and his hands gently grabbed her ponytail. He tugged it lightly so that her face tilted up towards his, silencing her.

"Stop," he said lowly, looking at her, even though she already had. His face now a few inches from hers, he pecked her on the lips softly. "My day was fine."

Lucy squeaked out in a weak response that gave proof to how she had completely melted, "Okay."

He pecked her again and in one fluid motion, took the pin out of her hair and her light brown locks fell to the middle of her back. He caught some of it, holding his hands at the nape of her neck. His thumbs gently brushed her cheeks and he kissed her.

Lucy felt herself turn to putty. She was in bliss. His hands, securely holding her face to his, had a strong hold on her, and as his lips were against hers, she thought to herself, about those hands, What's the use in holding on so tight? Lord _knows_ I'm not goin' anywhere.

* * *

A/N: I totally just noticed how all the leading men in Lucy's life are present in this chapter...interesting...


	14. Thicker Than Water

Tibby's restaurant was full, as usual, with the regulars. As Lucy approached the familiar building she watched inside as the boys all sat around the same tables they usually took over. It somewhat resembled the mess hall back at the orphanage, and she instantly thought of Ginger and Tick. It was the first time she truly missed them, for they had been the family she had while she was there. She looked down and could only hope they were both okay. But she looked up into the window again and felt better, for this was her new family.

"Sully!" the table shouted in broken unison as Lucy entered the restaurant and the bell rang above the door.

She smiled and waved as she made her way to the table. They rearranged the chairs to make room, pulling her in invitingly the way members of a family would when they had not seen each other in a while yet it was as if being separated never really mattered. The waiter brought her a water right away -- it was even at the point at which Lucy did not need a menu anymore. She rattled off her order as well as she could rattle off her own name.

"Feelin' bettah kid?" asked Racetrack. He swiftly brought the back of his hand to her forehead and brought it back down again, tossing her a cigar from the inside of his jacket. "Heah, have one 'a these, they're good for ya."

Lucy laughed to herself and set the cigar down onto the table subtly so he would not be offended. They were starting to play another card game that required earnest concentration with Race as the dealer, as per usual. Lucy sipped on her drink to watch intently. Skittery sat across the table, Race and Blink to her right, with Mush to her left. Others -- Boots, Crutchy, Bumlets -- crowded around, peering over one another's shoulder to look at the different hands.

The bell rang above the door again. Jack and David walked inside but they seemed to be in deep conversation, too deep to hardly notice the round of deafening and borderline obnoxious greetings from the table of brothers. David waved to them but went right back to listening to Jack, who talked nonstop since they set foot inside.

_Hm_…Lucy thought to herself. She looked at the table of boys who concentrated heavily again on the card game. Silently she slipped out of her chair, taking her water with her, and plopped down into the booth where Jack and David sat. It must have been a really deep talk -- David hardly noticed when she chose to sit next to him.

"…I'm gonna lose it, I swear," finished Jack, his eyes alive with raw emotion.

"No, no, you're not," David shook his head in a calm yet stern voice, a voice Lucy had never heard from him before now. "You're not going to make this any bigger than it needs to be. This is just Spot with a God complex…"

Lucy's eyes flickered to their conversation excitedly.

"…This is just him not wanting to let go of his reputation as the biggest newsies in New York. You had to have seen this comin', Jack, honestly."

"I did, it's just…" Jack sat back in restrained frustration. "I was so close to bein' rid 'a this. But it's this kinda shit that keeps holdin' me back 'cause I gotta take care of it."

"I know. I know." David nodded his head and looked down at his menu.

Lucy took a gulp of her drink and the ice cubes clinked noisily in the absence of their conversation. David looked to his left instantly at the sound.

"Hey! Sorry about that," he said. "Hi."

Lucy smiled forgivingly.

"Hey Luce," said Jack flatly with his face down reading the menu.

"How's everything goin'? Any better?" She directed her question more towards Jack as he seemed to have much more response to the current situation.

"_Fine_."

"Okay, then," Lucy backed off. She looked at David from the corners of her eyes and he shook his head suggesting that she drop the subject. Lucy nodded in response. Instead, she began whimsically, "Jack, Molly almost kicked me outta the shop today."

Jack laughed, distracted. "Really, what'd ya do this time?"

"I may have…_almost_…trimmed the seams of a sleeve so that they fell off the dress entirely…" Actually, Lucy had done no such thing. In fact, it was a rather successful work day, and Molly had hardly spoken a word to her. She did not come close to trimming the sleeves off some dress; rather, she mended the most expensive garment of the week in an impressive amount of time that should have warranted a pat on the back from Molly. Yet Jack had pointed out before how he thought it was funny how Molly supposedly embarrassed her at times and she would try to hide her embarrassment in telling the story to everyone else. It was a lie, yes, but when Jack laughed and got out of his irritable mood, Lucy felt not the least bit guilty.

And it had done quite the trick. The lie led into a discussion of several other mishaps on the job between the three of them. Jack told the story of how David was practically thrown out from being a newsie for nearly accusing the distribution operator of cutting him short a single newspaper. Lucy laughed along with Jack while David tried to subtly hide his face in his hands.

"Nothin' beats bein' a newsie, right Dave?" Jack leaned across the table and smacked him across the head in a fraternal bonding sort of way.

"Yeah, yeah…" replied David as if to say, _Haven't I heard this all before?_

"What d'you mean?" asked Lucy.

"Dave here's goin' back to school next week. No more sellin' papes with the rest 'a the boys."

"I'll still stop by here and by the distribution after classes, though," offered David.

"Are you really goin' back? That's great," encouraged Lucy.

David looked at her with a pleasantly surprised look. "Thanks…You think so?"

"Yeah. Well, one of us has gotta move up in the world…"

"Got a point. Not all of us can be gang leaders the rest of our lives like Spot Conlon, right? We can't all be ambitious!" said Jack in a very dark and sarcastic way that masked his true feelings on the subject. It was as though the previous lighthearted conversation was merely a padding for when he cracked again.

Lucy shook her head. "Okay, _what _is goin' on? It's startin' to confuse me, I'd really just wanna know what you're talkin' about…"

David and Jack looked at each other a moment.

"Or not, if it's some top-secret newsies business…"

"It ain't that. No. Basically one 'a the gangs up heah's been havin' some problems with Spot's boys and when we heard about it, we thought it'd be a good idea to talk to Spot hisself, ya know? So we did, and it turns out Spot's boys and this Manhattan groups' been on the outs since the beginning of the summer. Nothin' too serious, they even stopped fightin' in order to help the strike, but after that's done they picked up again. So we talk to 'im, see if we can work somethin' out, 'cause if it's in Manhattan it still affects us, ya know, we're the barrier between this gang and Brooklyn --"

"The gang's actually a few blocks near your place," interrupted David to Lucy.

Lucy felt a pang. So that was why she encountered Spot near that restaurant and felt such a strong presence when she tried looking for him. It was not fate. It was, as Spot routinely said, just "business."

"--Spot ain't havin' that, though, he ain't willin' to listen to us. So we'se been goin' back an' forth between the two and Spot's just been a real son of a bitch about it," finished Jack.

"He just wants to keep it all going so he can tally up another fight he's won. He knows it involves us in one way or another but he just doesn't care," added David. "He doesn't want Jack's name attached to it is all."

Lucy nodded. It was so strange to her, suddenly, that she was reminded of just who Spot Conlon was. In the past couple of days she had forgotten that he was the leader of the newsies and he still had to deal with problems such as this. He had the same job as Jack and David. He was still the leader over there across the river. It was a weird reminder of _who_ she had been fooling around with, and a biting reminder of how Jack never wanted the two of them to ever meet.

"He's on a power trip. Now that you've got your name all over the strike, people don't automatically think of him when they think of the best gangs and newsies, they think of Manhattan for a change," elaborated David. "You _know_ he can't be dealing with that too well…"

Lucy felt her stomach flip-flop. Keeping her secret to herself and her outward emotions in check, she imagined Spot possessing that need to command, to be in charge, to take control. She smirked to herself for she understood how David would think that, and it was like she knew Spot Conlon on a particular level that nobody else really did.

Toning down the mood at the table, the waiter brought around their food. Lucy was still in blissful, secretive wonder, looking the way someone would if they had a delicious bit of gossip about to explode from inside them. A few pieces of her hair fell in front of her face and she readily tucked them behind her ear, clearing her throat and calming herself down. She took a bite of her sandwich and oh, how good it tasted.

David's face looked up into the evening sky as he walked Lucy back to her apartment that night. Lucy strolled at his side twirling hair around her finger. It was a fairly clear night, not at all like the weather the city had seen days before with torrential downpours. There were stars tonight. Lots of them. And as David and Lucy walked, there again was a comfortable silence between them, as if they could exist in their own worlds together without being anxious of the other's presence. It was quite comfortable.

"It's pretty nice out," said David.

"Hm?" Lucy floated back down to Earth. "Oh, yeah. It's a really pretty night. I still enjoy the rain, though."

David laughed. "Yeah."

A minute passed before either of them said anything, until David shifted the silence and said, "I can't count on being out too late that often anymore."

"Well, ya need your school, of course."

"I guess…"

"Think of it this way: you're not doomed to be a street rat like the rest of us," laughed Lucy darkly. "Society will actually look proud on you and you won't ever have to worry about bein' sent to the refuge."

"Yeah, well…I never looked down on you guys. At least not anymore, I admit I did at first. But definitely not anymore. How could I? What a horrible thing to do."

Lucy looked to David's profile and he alternated gazing up at the black canvas of the night sky and down at the ground. There was a genuinely disheartened spirit about him. His hands were in his pockets and he kicked stones lazily as he walked. He knew he was leaving a place he called home. Perhaps not for good, but still for a little while. Lucy studied him further: his face was the most serious -- the most real -- she had ever seen. And everything about David Jacobs, in that moment when she looked at him, was sincere.

She linked her arm in his, for at that time she did not think it would send the wrong signal. There was closeness and respect between them. The evening had shifted ever so lightly her perception of him. "We'll miss ya, Dave. But you could never leave, really, you'll always be one of us."

David laughed, slightly touched. "It's funny how it only took one afternoon for you to be considered 'one of us.'"

"I've got connections," she joked.

"Ha-ha, I gues. Not that I don't agree you're one of us, it's just funny how people feel like they've always been there."

She rested her head on his arm. "Yes. I know what ya mean."

That moment Lucy shared with David was rather significant and she knew this on level she did not admit to herself. David was going to school, and things were going to change for him and the newsies and, consequently, for her as well. She was part of the Manhattan family. Anything one of them did affected the whole clan. _This_ was what Lucy did not want to reveal to herself. She did not want to face that reality just yet. But there is still the idea that steadfastly remained, that applied to the newsies, to the Jacobs, and to Lucy, that blood is thicker than water. No matter how much the tide changed and washed everything away, there would always be something stronger to defeat the water, the element of change, no matter how much rain Lucy could enjoy.

* * *

A/N: Still getting more interesting...I hope...haha.


	15. Dirty Game

This is a long one because it was originally two chaps. Enjoy my lovely readers :) let me know what you think.

* * *

It took everything Lucy had not to nod off and fall right to sleep. Presently she sat on the hardwood floor of her apartment leaning against the bed frame. Her head lolled to the side but she jerked up back up again at once. Tonight, she was going to meet Spot. It was still exciting, her secret, double life, but the only problem was that she could only meet up with him until it was extremely dark outside. And, consequently, it had to be very late.

Lucy crawled over to the mirror propped up against the wall and reached for the jar of black coal next to it. She studied the way she made herself up and dabbed a fingertip more of the coal around her eyes. The more makeup she had, the more she could cover herself up, and that very secret identity made her feel like she was walking the tightrope. One wrong step and she would come crashing to the ground. Hard. But that was precisely why she did it.

_Lucy watched her mother leaning over the dresser staring into the mirror. She smacked her lips together a few times after rolling a layer of lipstick across them. She turned to her daughter and, to the curiosity of the young girl, gently held either side of her face and smoothed on a thin layer of lipstick._

_"Just a little dab, that's all you'll ever need…" _

_Lucy mimicked the way her mother smacked her lips together to spread and even out the color. _

_Her mother smiled. "You shouldn't ever hide behind your makeup."_

Promptly, as if her mother had given her direct orders, Lucy grabbed a handkerchief and wiped off half of the black eye makeup.

She thought about what she and Spot would do during their "date." All she could see in her mind were glimpses of his hands and his lips against hers, and it was all in a dizzying haze. Just then Lucy felt her legs quiver with nerves. She was definitely awake now. And yet, her body was still exhausted from working that day and all week, like her mind was disconnected in some parts. She lay down on the floor so that she would not be terribly comfortable enough to sleep soundly, and waited until Spot arrived.

Nearly an hour later, a round of knocks came to the door. Lucy bolted upright and her heart started thumping immediately. She wiped the sleep out of her eyes, smoothed out her clothes, and casually opened the door. Spot was leaning against the doorframe just like he had done days before when he surprised her by throwing rocks at her window, and Lucy instantly felt how positively delicious he looked with this big, blue eyes and up-to-something expression.

"Evenin' babe. Ready to see how it's done in Brooklyn?"

They had walked around the perimeter of Manhattan, through back alleys and inconspicuous areas to avoid being seen together by any uptown newsies. Just to be sure, Lucy walked ten feet in front of him -- nobody could touch her with Spot following, his eyes intent on the girl pacing before him. When Lucy looked up after some time she saw the Brooklyn Bridge. They had finally reached the docks. At the end of the street, Lucy sighed tiredly and said, "Alright…almost there…"

Spot turned his head towards her, his face hiding something from her with a sly smile. Lucy gave him a confused look.

"We ain't walkin' the bridge. Here…" He gripped his warm hand around hers and led them towards the start of the bridge. There, a carriage with fancy, elaborate writing and designs on the side was parked. It was a very odd sight to see this late at night, and near the docks, nonetheless.

"Little somethin' me and the guys picked up this afternoon," said Spot.

Lucy laughed, intrigued. One of Spot's boys turned around from the driver's seat and tipped a stolen top hat, chuckling darkly. Spot, ever the gentleman that he was, dramatically opened the cab's door and invited her inside by taking her hand, kissing it, and following as she stepped inside.

"This is very strange, by the way," said Lucy as they made their way across the bridge.

Spot turned to her, about to crack a joke in response, but instead closed his mouth and kissed her. It was only a matter of minutes -- and Lucy could not pinpoint how it really happened -- before she was on her back on the cushioned seat with Spot on top of her, his hand already toying with the buttons of her dress. Lucy pulled away for a momentary breather, for she was practically suffocating and her heart was about to beat all the way out of her chest. Spot's forehead remained against hers, his lips lingering above hers.

Lucy could not understand it at first but she squeezed her eyes shut very tight. Like she did not want to see what was happening. Even if they weren't pushing any limits they had not pushed before, Lucy felt different. Perhaps it was all the talk about Spot's power trip that made her uneasy. But the environment affected her too. They were not in her room. They were in Brooklyn, and she felt sick with fear.

But she swallowed the worry down and eased her pulse. She turned off her mind and kissed him back.

The carriage stopped with a screeching halt. Spot maneuvered his way onto the street and Lucy crawled out, stumbling.

"Easy there." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

Lucy swallowed and nodded. _Get it together_, she demanded of herself. She brushed the hair from her face and put on a smile.

"This is gonna be the greatest night of your life, I swear." He smiled crookedly at her, leaning in and almost kissing her lips. Instead he gripped her hand and led her towards what she assumed to be the Brooklyn newsies lodging house. The carriage behind them took off, at a dangerously fast speed for a carriage, and soon it was out of sight, leaving Lucy in Brooklyn for good. She looked apprehensively at the building they were entering.

Inside were boys and girls littered all over the lobby and staircase, socializing and drinking and laughing, and a thick layer of smoke hovered just above everyone's heads, and the atmosphere was so intimate that a casual conversation demanded dangerously close proximity to one another. Everyone here knew everyone else because to party with Spot's boys meant you were in the presence of exclusivity and fine choice. And when Lucy entered the building on the arm of Spot Conlon himself, she felt like every pair of eyes was on her, the date of the Brooklyn leader who had made his way through girls all over New York, who reigned them in just as easily as he shot a marble through his slingshot. She did not need to introduce herself -- they already knew what kind of girl she must have been.

But all of this, when she thought about it while swimming in the crowds of newsies and runaways and orphans and people in her same walk of life, she enjoyed. There was no denying it. Everyone was watching her and they knew she had done something to charm the infamous Brooklyn boy, despite the number of notches he had on his bedpost. It did not matter so much as to what kind of relationship the two of them had, or if others cast a hint of judgment on her and _only_ her, because the bottom line was that she was something people watched and envied at this moment. The attention she got when Spot so much as glanced in her direction was undeniably addictive. It tasted wonderful.

Lucy did not need a mirror to know what her face must have looked like. There had to have been some kind of smirk or at least the hint of one splashed across her cheeks. She tightened her grip on Spot's hand, relishing in the delight of her evening, and with this aura of confidence and gratification, she was no longer apprehensive. She was rebel Lucy. Dangerous Lucy. Vixen, even.

Upstairs, after Spot greeted boys on the first level, was a very serious card game involving about six boys and their respective girls and/or girlfriends. The jovial spirit that existed downstairs was not present within the bunkroom, and Lucy noted the difference between the card game she had played in Manhattan her first night there and the atmosphere of the card game here in Brooklyn. Whereas she was greeted with smiles and handshakes before, here she was not introduced to the other boys nor did any of the stony, poker-faced newsies seem to care that she was there.

On a certain level she knew this and analyzed the two different situations. But at the present time she only paid her greedy attention to Spot, and she hung onto his arm until she sat down next to him which seemed the proper place for each girl, for that was where the rest of the newsies' dates were.

Lucy looked across the table at one couple. The newsie had both elbows resting on the table, his hard face staring intently at his hand of five cards. The girl next to him curled her fingers gently over the width of his bicep and peered curiously over her shoulder to read the cards. The faintest smile stretched across her face, and the newsie, who had paid little attention to her prior, now reacted almost angrily.

"What -- don't make that face!" he whispered harshly, shrugging her hand away.

"I'm sorry, I --"

"Just…" The boy stopped and shook his head.

The girl inhaled deeply and straightened her posture to maintain her dignity.

Lucy very slowly removed her hand from Spot's arm. He poured a glass of mixed alcohol on the table and slid it towards Lucy. She looked at it warily.

"Careful now," said Spot, his lip curling upward on one side.

She nudged him in response and he went back to his cards. She looked at the golden-colored drink and across the table at a similar drink in front of the girl she had just watched get shoved off. The girl raised her own glass and gave Lucy a smile that said, _Drink up, you're gonna need it_. And she took the first sip and felt her insides quiver. She swallowed the strong taste. She swallowed it down, mind over matter. She took another sip and another until the initial shock was over.

The game lasted for much longer than Lucy had anticipated. And it was not as though it was particularly engaging. About the only conversation involved words like, "Call," and "I raise you five." Lucy focused most of her attention on mentally enjoying her drink and trying to decode its ingredients. The bottles Spot poured the alcohol from were from paper bags in order to conceal the contents. She had successfully made her way through her second drink when the alcohol combined with her exhaustion from the day finally hit her -- she was staring at the cards being shuffled with the dealer and when she turned, it was like she had turned far too quickly and her head weighed a dizzying one hundred pounds. She caught herself by grabbing Spot's arm tightly and she quickly recovered to resemble the mute, statuesque girls around them. Spot pressed his lips together to hide a smile.

"I think I'll come back again later, fellas," he said, rising from his seat.

The newsies nodded silently, and Spot took Lucy's hand and stood her up. Lucy looked up and smiled, and felt the further effects of the strong alcohol.

"Don't you die on me now, alright?"

Lucy nodded. "I won't, don't worry."

The party downstairs was still in full swing, even if the only form of entertainment needed was each other. As they made their way there, Lucy clung tighter than ever to Spot's arm. He laughed a little and eventually wrapped his arm securely around her arms, to which Lucy wrapped her arms around his torso. She pressed her face against his chest, feeling his lean, cut physique and making no attempt to conceal her attraction towards it.

"Think you can handle another drink, babe?" he asked, shouting now above the loud chatter around them. He presented her with another glass of clear liquid and ice cubes. He smiled temptingly and added, "Brooklyn special, top-secret recipe. We don't give these out to just anyone."

Though it took a moment for the smile to get to her face, Lucy leaned into him and graciously accepted. Spot clinked his glass against hers and took a sip. She took a larger gulp than she intended, and it was so strong that her head shook like a spasm at the strength of alcohol. Spot laughed and pulled her into a hug.

"Aw man, that was too adorable, babe…I feel like I'm corruptin' you…"

Tipsier than ever, Lucy pulled away, grimacing. Determined to prove him wrong, she took a step back and took an even larger gulp that emptied her glass in half. Her entire body erupted in goose bumps and shakes at the shock of alcohol and she immediately regretted that decision. But she put on a brave face, as best as she could in her state of mind, and Spot laughed even more at her ambition.

"No!" she fought as he went to embrace her again. "I'm finishin' it!"

She gripped her fingers tight around the glass and knocked the rest of the mystery drink back, burning her throat as it sloshed down into her stomach. She lurched only a little but smiled triumphantly. Spot nodded, impressed, and said, "Nicely done, champ, welcome to the club."

Now that Lucy was legitimately drunk, her mood was lifted, her spirits high, and her eagerness to meet and chat with others was strangely high too. She was feeling _good_. And every now and then she simply turned to Spot and kissed him passionately, even if they were in the middle of a conversation with other people. Spot did not seem to mind -- in fact, Lucy believed he quite liked it, for she thought he may have liked the attention the same way she did. It was quite thrilling and exciting to show off who her date was, that she could so arrogantly grab him by the collar in the middle of the room and plant one right on his lips and not have anyone question her about it. After all, she was kissing Spot Conlon, and nobody dared question him.

"Spot…we gotta talk…" she slurred eloquently.

"Yes, babe?"

Lucy shook her heavy head slowly from side to side. "No…we gotta talk…outside. _Out-side_."

He snorted a laugh and teased, "And by _out-side_, you mean…"

She looked at him in an offended, confused way.

"God, you're cute." He brushed a piece of hair from her face and curled it behind her ear.

Once they were there, Lucy spun around and said deliberately, "I know what you meant by playin' with my hair."

"Whadda ya mean?" he asked in a playful way one only uses when talking to someone who is highly intoxicated and they do not want to offend them or set them off.

"My _hair_…I know what you _meant_ by it. I _know _what it does it you." She pulled the end of a chunk of her hair and held it in front of her face as if to seductively hide herself.

Spot inched towards her, maintaining his strong eye contact with her, and slid his hands from her stomach to her back so that her hips pressed into his. He said in a low voice, close to her face now, "What's it do to me? Tell me."

Lucy stared at him a moment. She dropped her hair and looked away from his gaze feeling her heart pounding. In a loopy voice, she responded elusively, "I d'knoooww…"

Spot sighed bemusedly. "I s'pose it's bettah that you don't."

For the next hour, Spot and Lucy continued to drink, but the amount of liquor Lucy had knocked back in total for the night was enough to create a fairly large gap in her memory. Not to mention, her inhibitions were so low that she had almost pounced on Spot in the middle of the staircase in order to have sex with him, just for show in front of the rest of Brooklyn. Since Spot was so obviously accustomed to a higher tolerance to alcohol, his judgment had not nearly been impaired as hers, but sex on the staircase was not in his plan, and he reeled her in whenever she was getting to "frisky."

Lucy was correct, however, in assuming Spot enjoyed soaking up the attention of his peers, even if he denied drunken sex in the middle of a party. For the most part, he was amused by Lucy, though he was a little disappointed he would not be getting as lucky as he had hoped tonight -- he _was_ still Spot Conlon and he _was_ still a man. So he watched as she danced around him, kissed him, hugged him, introduced herself to others as "a very lucky girl." It would seem Lucy was just as Spot wanted her: charmed and smitten by his presence.

Well, he was charmed by what Lucy _did_, which was play into the entire idea of being Spot Conlon. She simply fit his side like a trophy, like a representation of something he had won. After playing his cards just right, he got Lucy in return. She was the prize. And no matter how much he could show her off in Brooklyn, she was still supposed to be untouchable by Jack Kelly's standards. Yes, it was a very dirty game being played.

Lucy did not pick up on this, though. In those moments of bliss, at the party and whenever she was around Spot at all, she did not question the rightness and honesty of their relationship. Everything was golden with Spot. She was free to parade around with him without fear her brother would find out, without fear that she would fall off that tightrope she so dangerously tried to balance. It was so easy to be pulled deeper into Spot's life even when the risk got higher and higher with every moment they spent together.

But what's life without a little risk anyway?

* * *

A/N: Life without risk would not make this story very exciting, would it? haha I toot my own horn.


	16. Suspicion

The following morning greeted Lucy with a headache so bad she could hardly open her eyes. She listened and heard the steady murmur of the streets below. She felt a blanket tucked beneath her chin and felt a chilly breeze, but most of all she felt sick to her stomach. Was she in Brooklyn? After all that "Brooklyn juice" from the party, her memory of the previous night was all a blur. She remembered the poker game, meeting people here and there downstairs, and kissing Spot. A lot. Her tongue felt her bottom lip -- it was swollen.

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat just then. Lucy lifted one eye after the other and saw that she was in her own room, and Spot was sitting at the windowsill. Shirtless. He had one leg propped up, his arm laying lazily over his knee, and the other leg laying across the sloping roof outside. His face was difficult to depict; it was hard like he was concentrating, but his eyes looked a little lost. He flicked his gaze in Lucy's direction.

She felt her cheeks burn and she buried herself, embarrassed, underneath the covers.

"Mornin' sunshine." He got up from the window and sat at the edge of the bed. He slowly pulled the blanket away from her face but she had covered her face with her hands to hold her throbbing head.

"I feel…like death," said Lucy in a scratchy, tired voice.

Spot laughed. "It happens."

"I can't even move." She let out another groan. Not even Spot could cheer her up.

Then he put his hand on her back and rubbed it, and she really did feel better. It was warmth in a cold room with an open window.

"Have fun? Seemed like ya did…"

Lucy had a flashback of her most recent memory of last night. She was outside on the porch and Spot was holding her at her hips. He may have kissed her, or he may have only leaned towards her in that totally sexy way with a crooked smile that made her go completely weak in the knees. Just thinking about it made her stomach tremble.

"I had fun," she responded finally in a dead voice. She turned over to lay on her back and Spot adjusted so that his arm was propped up against her side, his torso positioned across her body. "I'll be dying today but I had fun."

Spot nodded knowingly, almost condescendingly, and Lucy felt a twinge of humiliation. She looked down and said, "Yeah, sorry, I musta been a mess…"

Spot nodded again but he chuckled. "You was a mess, yeah, but a cute mess. Don't feel bad. I mean, I did have to carry you outta there when ya fell asleep on the staircase after I left you alone for just a minute…Then I had to track down where Benny took the carriage and get 'im to drive us back ovah here… You got a little, uh, 'frisky' in the carriage, had to tone ya down a bit. That was funny. Then I had to rummage through yer dress --" he smirked "--to find your key. And when we got up heah…" He pointed to the door where her dress from last night was hanging on a hook. "…You threw up and I washed it all outta your dress."

Lucy's mouth had fallen open.

Her face was on fire.

After hearing that story she decided there was no God. Or, if there was, he was punishing her.

She looked down to see she was wearing his navy blue button-down shirt. She yanked the covers back over her head and threw her arms up to cover her face. Spot was laughing mercilessly and he patted her stomach for encouragement. She felt like she could vomit and then drop dead from embarrassment.

"You was a handful but I kinda had that feelin' before I took you out. No worries. I had a blast."

"You swear?" she cried desperately.

He pulled the cover from her face and looked at her intently. "Yes."

Lucy sighed. "So…I'm wearin' your shirt…You…I was…"

"Nothin' I nevah seen before." He smirked.

She sat up and punched him in the arm.

As he grabbed her to playfully fight her off and she laughed, there came a sudden round of knocks at the door. Lucy froze underneath Spot and her heart rate spiked. She shoved his entire body off her with all her strength and flew out of bed.

She was supposed to meet the Jacobs and Jack for brunch today. It was only then, at that exact moment when the knocks came to her door, that she remembered.

"One second!" she called, furiously pulling Spot from her bed and shoving him to the window.

"What the --"

"You have to go! Now!"

"I'm not wearin' a shirt."

"I'll give it back, just _go_!"

"What, I'm gonna _jump_ from heah?"

"Jump, fly, whatever, GO!"

Spot scooted his way off the windowsill, working his way carefully down the sloped rooftop. Lucy watched anxiously as he hung briefly from the roof before plummeting and landing coolly on the pavement of the alleyway beneath her window. She breathed a quick sigh of relief that he wasn't dead.

She raced for the door and opened it a crack.

It was Sarah. She made a quick, puzzled face, and before realizing it was impolite, she smiled. "I wasn't sure if you remembered about brunch and I was in the neighborhood getting food for today…"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry -- I remembered, I was just --" She followed Sarah's eyes to the shirt she was wearing as she tried to hide a smile. Lucy knew she could not explain that one, or the fact that she still reeked of hard liquor and it was only now that she noticed it.

"Rough night?" assumed Sarah with a laugh.

"Very…"

"We won't tell Jack about him," she winked, nodding towards the window out of which Spot had just escaped. "Whoever he is."

Lucy nodded intently. "No, we will _not_ tell Jack _anything_."

Sarah chuckled, relishing in their little secret the way best friends would. "I'll just wait outside on the street for you."

"Perfect. I'll meet you right down there."

Lucy waited until she was down the staircase before banging her head against the door for being so stupid. "Ow…Fuck." She also remembered her head was in so much pain she thought it would explode.

"Hey! Lucy!"

She walked to the window. Spot was still down in the alley, still shirtless, still undeniably charming. She perched on the windowsill for a moment just to look down and say, "Long walk back to Brooklyn, ain't it?"

"Not funny. Shirt, please."

"It's such a good color on me, though."

"I'll go meet whoever it was at that door and tell 'em why ya took so long!"

"You wouldn't…"

He made an expression that she had seen before; it was as if to say, Wouldn't I?

Lucy's hands flew to the buttons as she jumped back inside. "Now _that _ain't funny," she said to herself. She wrapped herself in her blanket, balled up his shirt, and tossed it down.

He blew a quick kiss, threw the navy blue garment over his head, and walked down the alley.

* * *

While Lucy walked with Sarah she tried her best to concentrate on the conversation and not at the fact that she was about to hurl and that her mouth was so dry she was willing to drink water from a puddle. She kept her eyes down and angled away from the sun so that the blinding rays would not make her eyeballs throb in pain. She knew she must have looked like a walking disaster -- pale from throwing up, circles under her eyes, hand clutched over her brow. It was humiliating.

"Oh…" said Sarah tentatively, suddenly, when she was finished talking.

"What?"

"I'd thought they'd settled it by now."

"Settled what?" She looked up finally. Walking in their direction a few feet from their path, was Spot. He had another boy at his side but he looked in their direction as he walked and the other boy talked by his side. Spot winked at her.

Lucy felt her insides twist in knots, her face go hot with nerves, and her hands go chillingly cold. He was as casual as she could ever hope, aside from the wink, with the way he seemed to stroll down the street unassumingly looking perfectly fine and well without a care in the world. He tipped his hat in their direction like a polite gentleman. Sarah smiled politely in return, though it was forced, and Lucy's eyes simply widened and her eyebrows knitted simultaneously.

"Not foolin' anyone, is he?" joked Sarah lightly as they continued walking.

"Huh?"

"We all know Spot doesn't like Jack right now, you wouldn't think he'd even glance in this direction. Even I know that and I'm not even a newsie…"

"Oh…right. Well, that's his problem then, right? It's kinda hard not to like Jack."

"I suppose so. I guess all that business between him and that gang isn't really over then. Damn, I'd hoped it would be. Jack's getting hard to put up with since he's so frustrated by it all…"

Lucy felt queasier than ever but she dutifully nodded and agreed. "Boys will be boys, I guess."

"I guess that's why he's uptown, then. I doubt he'd ever leave Brooklyn just for kicks."

Sarah squinted at Spot further as he walked past. She paused, furrowing her eyebrows, and Lucy knew somehow she looked at his navy blue button-down. Sarah looked back at Lucy briefly and said nothing. They continued walking without discussing the boys any more.

* * *

Lucy prided herself in being able to gulp down brunch without having to run to the bathroom to vomit. She had put on a smile despite the puffiness in her eyes and engaged in as little conversation as possible. About halfway through the meal -- which for her, consisted mainly of biscuits and juice -- her stomach had had enough and she gave up. Nevertheless, it all stayed down, and for that, she was thoroughly satisfied.

The four of them -- Lucy, David, Jack, and Sarah conversed on the rooftop afterward. Lucy grabbed the shadiest spot she could find and got herself comfortable.

"Oh, Jack, guess who we saw this morning on our way here," said Sarah, looking Lucy's way.

"Who?"

"Spot and one of his little sidekicks."

"Ya know, he best be gettin' outta Manhattan soon. I'm sick 'a seein' him 'round heah."

"It was probably just somethin' to do with that gang, Jack," said Lucy with a hint of defensiveness.

"No, no, some 'a the guys saw 'im heah last night too. It's like he's spyin' on me or somethin'."

Lucy gulped. "Why, uh…why would he wanna spy on you? Maybe he just likes Manhattan."

All three looked at Lucy. David's face held a repressed, cynical laugh and Jack seemed to say with his eyes, That's absurd! And Sarah -- Sarah looked at Lucy questionably.

"Or…or he could be, I dunno, negotiating with those guys here…ya know?" suggested Lucy, now trying to save herself as best as she could but she felt like all of her insides were out in the open now. She looked down and felt her thumb and index fingers scratching each other again nervously.

"I don' know he'd be doin' a whole lotta negotiating at three in the morning. But who knows, it wasn't me who saw 'im anyway…" trailed Jack.

"Who was it then, who saw him?" asked Lucy quickly with quieted desperation.

"Apparently he had a pretty big party last night in Brooklyn," said David before Jack could answer Lucy. "Maybe he was drunk!"

Jack laughed. "God, can you imagine Spot drunk? He'd probably pick a fight with streetlamp if he could."

Lucy felt Sarah's growingly suspicious eyes burn into her skin, and she remained staring down at her fingers, her skin getting redder and rougher the more she scratched. She replayed Sarah telling her they "wouldn't tell Jack, whoever he is," and that she had had a rough night last night. _Oh God, oh God, oh God_…She knew Sarah was starting to piece it all together before her.

"You guys throw parties at the lodging house? That's allowed?" asked Sarah, and Lucy swore she was not at all interested in if they were really allowed. She had looked at Lucy when she asked the question yet directed it to the boys.

"I guess not as hard as Brooklyn does," laughed David.

"Oh, of course not, Dave, that's a given," said Jack.

Lucy willed herself to stay looking down, to not admit she was actually there in the presence of three honest, good people whom she was closest to. But her eyes rebelled. She glanced up at Sarah who was looking directly at her with a complacent face yet eyes that said she had figured it all out. Lucy looked away at once and pulled her legs in closer to her stomach.

"Anyway, I was talking with some of the guys the other day…" began David on a new topic.

But Lucy could not concentrate on whatever David was talking about. All she could see in her mind was Sarah staring at her. Her stomach panged with guilt and fright and worry, and there was Sarah, as seemingly calm as can be, just looking at Lucy. Sarah knew, Lucy was certain. In a panic after it was all too much to take, Lucy jumped up and disappeared behind a line of hanging laundry into a corner. She crashed to her knees and felt everything inside rise up from her stomach in one painful hurl.

A minute later she felt her long hair being pulled from her face and out of the way of her vomit. Tears of disgust trickled down her cheeks and she looked up to see Sarah crouched down. Lucy felt her lip tremble and she shook her head, shrugging helplessly.

"Please don't say anything," she pleaded in a whisper.

With a disappointed attitude, Sarah helpfully tied Lucy's hair into a ponytail with a ribbon. Then with disapproval and loyalty at the same time, she said in a forced tone, "Say what?"

Lucy whimpered. "You know…"

"Yes." Sarah exhaled. "I know."

* * *

A/N: Reviews were a little low last chap. I hope I have not turned anyone away from reading and reviewing...that was my big fear.


	17. Secrets

Later that week, Lucy sat frozen in the workroom of the dress shop with a worried look on her face. A finished garment hung on a dress form in front of her as she sat perched on the stool with her arms crossed around her like a straight jacket. She stared into space in distressed concentration as she chewed on her thumbnail.

_Don't look so surprised_, her conscience stabbed. _Someone was bound to find out sooner or later._

"Thought it'd be _later_ rather than sooner…" She unhooked her arms and spun the dress around before her searching for mistakes.

She had been feeling nervous ever since Sarah figured out who exactly had snuck out of her room when she picked her up on Sunday morning. Her mind was all in a tizzy trying to balance what she knew was right and what she really wanted. It did not help, though, that whenever she saw Spot those emotions were erased. She felt secure with him around. She truly enjoyed his presence for it was unlike any presence she had had before. It struck a particular chord with her and when she was in it with him those feelings intensified. Nobody could tell her _that_ was wrong.

When Molly was finished with her services that day, Lucy dragged herself out onto the street to get some fresh air. Her pace was slow and pensive, and her eyes remained towards the ground in deep thought. She eventually sat down on a bench and watched various people walking around the market. In the close distance she saw a mother with an armful of groceries and her free arm holding tightly onto her daughter. She must have been around six or seven years old, and she must have been giving her mother grief all day. The woman looked exhausted, and when her daughter strayed for a second, she tiredly yanked her back into place.

"There'll be no more of that behavior, d'you understand?" she scolded. She could see from here the exhaustion in her eyes.

Lucy knew she could find a memory of her own mother out of this. She searched her brain and the first thing that came to her mind was of both her parents:

_It was in the middle of the night and she woke up, for some reason she was not sure. Perhaps it was a bad dream. But she crept out of her bedroom and into the living room for she knew the safety and comfort of her parents' protection resided there._

_"…You've got to stop this, William!" urged her mother in an angry whisper. She was pacing around the kitchen with her father sitting at the table watching her._

_"What would you rather me do, Emily? I'm bringing money home, what more can you ask for?" replied her father in the same angry, low voice._

_"Abide by the law! That's what I'm asking for! I'm well within my right to ask you for that!"_

_"Emily, how many times do I have to tell you that nothing is going to happen. These guys're experts, they won't get caught."_

_"You better hope to Jesus Christ they won't! What am I supposed to tell the children if you do get caught? Ever think about that? Ever think about them?"_

_"Of course I have!" William's hand crashed to the table in an incredible burst of frustration, and Lucy jumped, hidden behind a door as she peeked from behind it. _

_"Of course I've thought about the children, that's why I'm doing all this! To feed them, to feed you, to make sure we don't get thrown out to the streets!"_

_Emily stopped pacing and stood before her husband. Her fists rested at her hips as she said something Lucy could not hear, as if it were some kind of secret. William suddenly rose up so fast his chair slid and fell to the floor behind him. He reached out and gripped Emily by the arm forcefully._

Presently, Lucy winced as she remembered feeling so utterly terrified for her mother.

_Four-year-old Lucy jumped out from behind the door impulsively. She squeaked out in a shaking, brave voice that only a child could muster, "Don't!"_

_Her parents both shot their eyes in her direction quickly. William let go slowly. Emily paused to glare at her husband before walking back to Lucy. Her face changed from anger to nurture in a split second as she approached. Lucy remembered she had tears in her own eyes already when her mother bent down and hugged her, and even in her mother's shaken state, Lucy felt completely secure wrapped in her embrace._

* * *

Just as Lucy was nodding off to sleep that night, she heard the familiar sound of pebbles against the glass of her window. As if her body automatically knew how to react, a smile spread into her cheeks and she flew the covers off her body in one quick motion.

"Can I help you?" asked Lucy, nestling her arms comfortably on the windowsill, looking down at Spot.

"Maybe," he said elusively.

"Whatcha need?"

"Come out with me."

Lucy hesitated to answer. Her right foot slid over the floor to step on the left. "It's really late, Spot, I have to work tomorrow."

"I do too!" he countered immaturely. In the dark of night Lucy could not see his face but she could see in her mind the way he must have been looking at her. Those eyes, that tempting expression…they were irresistible.

"I dunno…" She tried to fight the image in her head.

"Please? I miss you…"

His voice was like silk the way it resounded in her ears so smoothly. One word in that voice could make her do absolutely anything. She turned her mind off. Quieted her conscience and her better judgment. How could she pass him up?

"Fine, fine, gimme a few minutes."

The streets were particularly quiet when she stepped outside. It was eerie. Since they were both still too cautious about being seen together -- although Lucy had assumed whoever saw Spot in Manhattan Saturday night had seen her passed out in his arms as well, her face likely hidden, though -- Spot waited at the end of the street for her to come out. When she looked at him from afar leaning against the streetlight with his thumbs hooked at his suspenders, he motioned for her to follow him.

They did not walk very far, for they ended up at the restaurant they had first eaten at when they happened upon each other that afternoon that seemed oh so long ago. The lights were turned on inside but there was nobody to be seen. Spot passed the restaurant's main entrance and turned off the street right after it. Lucy practically ran to catch him for she did not like him being out of sight.

"Hey!"

Lucy was jerked to the left. Spot had snatched her from the street past the restaurant and into a wide alley. He smiled as reeled her in and kissed her. Lucy sank into his arms feeling safer than ever and kissed him with more fervor than she ordinarily would upon first seeing him.

"Good to see you too," he breathed, "C'mon." He took her by the hand and led her halfway down the alley and through a cellar door.

It was the basement of the restaurant, and it was cramped and stuffy with a dim kerosene lamp sitting on a crate box in the middle of the room. There were only a handful of people there when they arrived -- a couple here and there, a few men smoking cigars at one end, and there were a few waiters smoking cigarettes and drinking rum.

The atmosphere was incredibly calm despite the illegal consumption of alcohol in the restaurant -- it was the Prohibition and alcohol inside any restaurants was against the law. Spot casually walked to the far end of the basement to a tiny end table in the corner. Lucy slipped in and curled up to the corner. Spot lit the waxy candle on the table with a match and pulled out a bottle of bourbon from beneath the table. There were already glasses sitting on the table waiting for them to use, and Lucy gulped watching the liquid slosh into her glass, her stomach reacting to the alcohol before she even tasted it.

"Cheers," he said with smile, clinking their glasses together.

Lucy took the tiniest sip of her drink. Spot's arm worked its way around her shoulders and she snuggled up to him cozily. It was quiet between the two of them, and Lucy was so comfortable she almost closed her eyes to fall asleep. She fought the urge, though, and her eyes traveled across the room of murmured conversation and cigarette smoke. She looked up at Spot and he was casually scanning the room.

Lucy set her drink down and raised her hand to clutch his face. She easily leaned in to kiss him for several moments. She did not care that others were around; she felt like she could get away with murder here. And Spot must have known it too. His moves were perfect, working his magic on her with a subdued desire that reminded Lucy of why she wanted to be around him in the first place. The boy was good -- Lucy had to give him the credit for that. He knew exactly what to do to make her melt in his arms like that.

"Hey…" Lucy pulled away after a while.

"What's wrong?"

"I, uh, think I should tell ya something."

Spot's eyes wandered over to her hair distractedly as he twirled a few strands between his fingers.

Lucy watched him finger with her chestnut locks, a look of desire overtaking his face. _That makes it too hard_, she thought, and hastily knocked his hand away from her hair. He looked up, puzzled. Lucy inhaled anxiously while she mustered up the words until she decided to just throw it out there.

"Sarah knows."

Spot furrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Sarah knows about us. She caught on, Sunday morning…when she picked me up and I was wearin' your shirt…and then we saw you on the street and…She knows. I'm positive she does."

Spot's face was blank -- much less than she expected. He leaned back in his seat against the wall. He stared in front of him and took a slow swig of his drink. And stared some more. Lucy's fingers scratched together furiously. _What is he thinking? What am _I_ supposed to be thinking?_

"I'm sorry, I just had to tell you…" she added between the silence.

Spot's eyes narrowed. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and leaned forward to reach for a match, lighting it with just one hand. Lucy could not take her eyes off him through all of his movement, waiting for the reaction she expected. Nerves, outbursts, yelling, something. It never came. He sat there quietly while wisps of smoke traveled into the air from his cigarette. For a moment she saw a hint of anger liven in his eyes, and she felt his fingers tighten against her arm.

_What now? What does all this mean? He's got his hold on me, but he's not saying anything, why won't he say anything, what _is_ this? _

She hated how crazy she felt. And embarrassed. All she could think was, _This is too real_. She picked up her drink and took a couple of sips. She shouldn't have told him. It's not like they had the most dignified relationship in the world, how awful would it have been if she had just kept this to herself?

Had he become a little less intrigued by her now that someone else knew?

It was silent like that for a few minutes. For Lucy she felt like it lasted so much longer. She crossed her arms over her chest and her leg over the other feeling as awkward and uncomfortable as ever. Spot took a final drag of his cigarette and stamped it out on the floor. He stood up and turned to face her. She looked up at him with uncertain, apologetic but hopeful eyes the way a puppy would look at its master after it disobeyed him in the smallest way.

"Wanna stay with me Brooklyn tonight? Obviously ain't safe heah."

_No_, she thought. _Shouldn't do that. Work tomorrow. Bad idea. More people will find out._

As soon as she told herself she shouldn't, he smiled her favorite crooked smile. He shrugged in response to the situation in a way Lucy assumed he was saying, "It's the least I can do, just stay with me."

And she had been hooked by him long ago. So she said nothing in response and put her drink down. As she stood up and brushed herself off, his eyes followed hers, looking into them intently. He took her by the hand and led her out of the basement. It was so quiet and still and hushed there in that basement that when they left it was as if no one had even noticed they were there, and the near silence of the restaurant was comforting because nobody was there to find them out at all, nobody there to find out their secret.


	18. Evidence

Long. Combined chapters. Enjoy!

* * *

Nothing fairly significant had happened for a several days after Lucy told Spot about Sarah. She had spent the night with Spot in Brooklyn and spent the rest of the day at work fighting the urge to fall asleep. They had gotten together a few times between then and now as well, mostly because she felt better about their secret possibly being revealed when she was with him. When she was alone, she was a nervous wreck; when she was with him, they were in it together. It was something about his presence -- it made her feel like she was not committing a crime.

It was awkward as hell when she first saw Sarah, though. She looked at Lucy differently now -- her face was not as cheerful and her greetings were not as warm but there was loyalty in her friendship with her and Lucy knew that. She trusted, even if it pained Sarah to do it, that she would not betray her.

One evening as Lucy helped Sarah with the Jacobs's laundry before dinner, the topic finally came up in conversation. They were in their bedroom, just the two of them, when Sarah suddenly asked her, "So when did it happen?"

"What?" Lucy paused in folding one of David's shirts.

"You and…" She looked behind her and shut the door. "When did you two meet? Jack told me he never introduced you two, he was too worried Spot would get interested and --"

"It was when I got a job," interrupted Lucy. She did not like where Sarah's tone was leading. "I was walkin' back from the shop when I was hired and I ran into him on the street. We introduced each other and got somethin' to eat."

Sarah nodded, folding a garment. "Oh, okay. That gang the boys're having trouble with is near your shop, that's probably why you saw him there. I found that out the other day."

Lucy was suddenly really aggravated by Sarah's polite conversation. She wanted Sarah to scream at her and get it over with. But she was not going to let Sarah make her feel worse about the situation and the mixed emotions made her uneasy.

"Did they happen to say anything else about the gang?" asked Lucy.

"I don't think anything big has happened so far. I think they're just trying to prevent something from happening, and Spot -- I mean, the Brooklyn boys -- are giving them a hard time. It's…I dunno, it's all very different from my point of view, of course," she laughed. "So how's work going for you? Molly still a pain in the ass?"

Lucy forced a smile at first but it quickly vanished. She sat down on the bed and said with a hint of directness, "Let's not do this. We both know how you feel about the situation. Can we just be real for a minute? Please?"

Sarah glanced at the door again before responding. Her tone was honest, and though it was what Lucy was seeking, she did not expect it. "I think it's risky. I don't think it's a good idea. At all. How could it possibly work between you two? No matter how much Spot likes you he'd never be able to convince Jack he's good enough and neither could you. His relationship with Spot is different than any of the other newsies. I don't even know how it's lasted this long, I mean you guys are really good at acting like nothing's going on…" She sighed, her eyes serious, and she picked up another garment to fold. "I just keep picturing Jack when he finds out--"

"_If_ he finds out," corrected Lucy promptly.

"_If…_Jack finds out…I can't imagine what it would do to your relationship."

Lucy knew she had a valid point. She just did not want to admit it. She rose from the bed and walked over to the window, leaning her back against it and folding her arms across her chest. "But he's my family, Sarah. I could murder someone and he wouldn't think twice about lettin' me in. That's why you have family, so they can…I dunno, 'catch you when you fall.' There's nothin' that says anything horrible is gonna come outta this anyway. Jack can't exactly _forbid_ me from knowing him, a lotta people know who Spot is. I'm not puttin' myself in danger either, Spot's never hurt me and I know he never would. He's never laid a hand on me."

Sarah could not help a smile as her eyes narrowed. Lucy smiled too, lightening the mood, and she said as she walked back to the bed, "You know what I mean."

"I just hope you're right. But, uh, just between you and me…" Her voice dropped so low Lucy almost did not hear her. "If Spot weren't Spot, I'd be supportive."

Lucy looked at her strangely.

"He is _painfully_ good-looking."

Lucy busted an easy laugh. "Yes, that's the upside to everything."

A few days later after Lucy's talk with Sarah, she had gotten together with Spot once more, and she had generally a better feeling about it all. Even if everything Sarah said was what she did not want to hear, she felt less alone in the matter. Sarah's loyalty had her on her side. She also enjoyed Sarah's confession about her attraction to Spot. It made her giggle like a nearly brain-dead girl whose only got boys on her mind.

She smirked. She was the proud owner of Spot Conlon's attention. Nobody could really take that away from her no matter how wrong it was.

Lucy was making her way to Tibby's restaurant for dinner when Blink spotted her on the street. He greeted her by slinging his arm around her in a brotherly way as they walked.

"How ya been kid?" asked Blink.

"Just fine, how 'bout yourself?"

"I'm doin' pretty g…" Blink cut off before finishing his last word. He stopped walking and grabbed her arm.

"What? What is it?" Lucy stopped, bewildered and startled by his actions. He turned her roughly to face him and he just stared at her. "Blink, what is it?"

Blink cracked a laugh and wheeled her around to face the window of a store, her reflection staring right back at her.

"_That's_ it!" He pointed to her neck.

"Oh, Jesus…"

There, as clear as day right there on the side of her neck for the entire world to see, was a hickey.

"Oh, _shit_!"

"Damn, Lucy! Tell me that's from a fight!"

"Oh God, oh God…" Lucy furiously ripped her hair from its ponytail and gathered it to the left side of her face, combing through it strand by strand, and turned up the collar of her dress to hide it. "Blink! What am I gonna do?!"

"Alright, alright, calm down…" He turned her around and placed his hands on either of her shoulders. He moved her hair out of the way to inspect the damage. Lucy watched him grimace and it made her nerves tremble.

"Good God, Lucy…there's like three of 'em…"

"Oh God!" she cried, burying her face in her hands. She wanted to disappear from the world entirely, just vanish into thin air. How could she have possibly missed those hickeys? Her mind was racing, _I'm gonna kill Spot! I'm gonna kill 'im!_

"It's alright, you're fine…" Blink pulled her into a platonic embrace to calm her down. "Look, there might be some tricks we can do to get rid 'a them." He kept his arm around her as she held her face while they walked to the lodging house. She felt her neck throb at the location of the merciless love bites.

They crawled up the fire escape on the side of the building. Blink opened the window and cautiously stepped inside. Lucy waited outside, hiding her face in her arms.

"Hey Race, is Jack around?" She heard Blink say inside.

"No, he ain't back yet. Why?" responded Race.

"Alright good…" Blink appeared again and ushered her inside.

Lucy stiffly crawled into the bunkroom, keeping her head down and her hair in front of her face. It was the second time in the past month she was thankful she had long hair.

"Heya Sully…what's, uh, goin' on…?" questioned Race watching them hurry down the center of the room.

"Nothin'. Oh, nothin'," said Blink. Lucy could tell he was smiling and trying his hardest not to crack up again.

Blink yanked her to the washroom. She leaned against the sink dejectedly. Race made his way over.

"Alright, someone bettah tell me what's…"

Lucy looked up through the tops of her eyes. She watched his face go from irritated at being in the dark to the same kind of smile and laugh Blink had when he first noticed the hickeys. He doubled over laughing, his hands collapsing to the tops of his knees.

"Quiet!" urged Lucy.

"Who's the lucky guy, Sully?!"

"Shut up!" Lucy smacked him on the back of the head and though she was absolutely infuriated and mortified, she could not help but let out a suppressed, self-deprecating laugh.

"Just to be sure, that ain't from a fight, right?" asked Race.

Lucy opened her mouth to speak but no words came out, just a blushing, red-faced smile. Blink shook his head amusedly and ran a washcloth underneath the sink. He wrung it out and smacked the hot, sopping, balled-up fabric against her neck. She winced at the scalding temperature.

"Bettah hope Jack don't find out about that," said Race.

"Yeah, he'd find out who it was and go kill 'im in a heartbeat," added Blink.

"Yeah…I know…" she groaned.

After a few minutes, Lucy lifted the washcloth and looked desperately in the mirror. Nothing changed. If anything the bruises were more pronounced and her skin was more red and noticeable. She angrily threw the washcloth into the sink and banged her head against the wall. Her neck felt swollen and puffy and constricting.

"Okay, that didn't work, but we'll go down to Tibby's and get some ice. That might help. Right, Race?" encouraged Blink. He smacked him to get his attention.

"Oh, yeah, sure, ice'll take it right out," he recovered promisingly.

Race took off his hat and threw it to Lucy. "Bettah put that on, don't wanna risk Jack seein' you."

They made their way to the restaurant by avoiding the main street. Lucy rushed with her head down and just to be sure, she covered her face with her hands and walked between Race who led the way and Blink who covered them from behind. Part of Lucy wanted to just bust out laughing at the irony of it all -- how secretive she and Spot tried to be and yet here the evidence was right on her neck; the other part of her wanted to smack herself repeatedly for being so stupid. On the head. With a shovel. Hard.

"A'right, you guys go wait heah I'll go get a drink," said Race.

Blink and Lucy remained outside in the alleyway between Tibby's and another building. Lucy leaned against the brick of the building and sighed heavily. Blink placed his hand on her shoulder and asked intently, "So. We gonna have to kick his ass, Sully?"

Lucy chuckled. "No, I, uh…" she cleared her throat, "don't think that'll be necessary."

_Honestly_, calm Lucy told her, _it's not like those got there by mistake._ Real Lucy swatted at her head and started pacing. Race appeared again with a glass full of ice. He scooped out a few cubes and plopped them into Lucy's hand, instructing her to hold them in place until they melted. She looked at them hopelessly, but looking at Race and Blink's intent expressions made her think otherwise. She sighed once more and shoved the cold, hard, hickey remedy to her skin.

After a few minutes Lucy felt the freezing water trickle down her neck and soon her hair and the collar of her dress were soaked. Blink and Race were involved in their own conversation talking about some horse race or another when Lucy interrupted them with just a puddle of water in the palm of her hand.

"Are they gone? Please tell me they're gone…"

Blink and Race stepped forward and leaned in to examine. Their cringing faces in response sent a wave of panic through Lucy's body.

"Least ya got long hair, though, right?" said Race. "Won't be so hard to cover up. It'll be gone in a week er so, I'd say. Heah, this'll make ya feel bettah." He dug around his pockets and tossed her a cigar.

"We won't tell Jack or nothin', don' worry," added Blink supportively.

_Great_, thought Lucy. _Another secret I'll make people keep from Jack. _But immediately following that thought was a sigh of relief. She was safe. Her secret was still safe.

"Thanks, guys, I appreciate it. We all know he can get a little protective." She took Race's hat off and gathered her hair to the left. It covered the worst of the hickeys and the dampness of her clothes but there was a hint of bruising and redness still extremely visible.

Race studied the cover-up. He shook his head and grabbed Lucy's collar with both hands, folding it upwards to try and cover the hickeys even more. "Still no good," he said dejectedly the more he adjusted.

"What's goin' on heah?"

All three heads in the alleyway snapped to the street. Jack stood before them with a confused look on his face looking at Race's hands on his little sister's dress. And when Lucy flicked her eyes behind Jack, she saw Spot looking just as confused as Jack.

"It ain't what ya think, Kelly," shot Race quickly, throwing his hands up.

Jack laughed but a hint of suspicion still remained. Blink and Race took significant steps backward and Lucy tried her best to make shoving all her hair to one side of her body look normal. She smiled innocently at Jack.

"Ready to eat?" she asked.

Jack narrowed his gaze at her. Though Lucy was looking at her brother, she could see -- feel -- Spot who stood five feet away from them. Why, of all times, had they decided to discuss matters today? _Maybe it's karma_, jabbed Lucy's inner calm.

Jack walked forward, his suspicious eyes still with hers, and raised his hand towards her neck. She felt Blink and Race wince and she closed her eyes in defeat. He flicked the chunk of hair away. Lucy squeezed her eyes and took herself to a calmer place, a better place, a place without hickeys!

Jack blinked with wide eyes a few times, opened his mouth, and shut it again speechlessly. Lucy felt herself die inside from complete and utter humiliation. Spot busted out a laugh and quickly tried disguising it as a cough but doing a horrible job of doing so.

"Luce?" was all Jack said. He quirked an eyebrow demanding answers.

"Jack?"

"Lucy."

"…Yeah?"

"What's that on your neck?" He straightened up and folded his arms across his chest. His tone flirted with the eruption of suppressed anger, his jaw clenching visibly. Lucy saw that any trace of amusement was gone -- it was the most protective she had ever seen him. If she were Spot, she would have been intimidated.

"…Seriously?" she uttered lowly. "Look, it's not all bad. Race said they'll go away in a few days."

Jack threw his eyes in Race's direction.

"Don' look at me, that ain't my work," he replied.

"Those is pretty bad," said Spot suddenly. "The guy probably shoulda signed 'em. Left his John Han_cock_."

Lucy glared icily at him and she felt all her anger suddenly shoot up from her toes and into her face. She pursed her lips tightly to keep from spitting flames in his direction.

"Shut up," ordered Jack to Spot, looking behind him to glare. Spot threw up his hands to show he meant no real offense. When Jack turned back to Lucy, Spot winked quickly at her, and if she had blinked she would have missed it. She died a little more inside.

"I don't really wanna know…" said Jack, forcing all of his anger down his throat with incredible restraint, "but who was it?"

Lucy felt her heart jump up to her mouth and she choked out, "You don't know him."

"Bullshit, I know everyone, who was it?" he snapped quickly without skipping a beat.

She took a deep breath and reached out her hand to his arm. "It's fine. It was just a stupid thing, you don't gotta go soak the poor guy who did it."

"Ya sure 'bout that?" he asked swiftly, his voice still hard.

"Yeah. Positive. You'd probably kill 'im anyway if you went over there. I mean, I don't think he's that good 'a fighter anyway…"

Lucy's eyes glimpsed over in Spot's direction. At her comment he straightened up, offended, his ego shattered. She smirked to herself inside as her stare traveled back to Jack, who seemed to have calmed down knowing she was not attacked and that the hickeys were not unwarranted.

"Seems to be more of a _biter _than a fighter anyway…" joked Race.

Jack shot a warning glare in his direction. Spot clenched his jaws instinctively at the accusation and he folded his arms over his chest in defense, visibly pissed off.

"Sorry." Race held up his hands defeated. "Wrong time to try that joke."

"Nice, Race," murmured Blink. "Dumbass…"

Lucy brushed her hair to the side and smoothed out the rest of her clothes properly.

"Now let's go get somethin' to eat. I'm starvin'."

"Will you be on the menu, Sully?" laughed Race jokingly, unable to help himself.

Jack opened his mouth and said nothing with his words but everything with his eyes. Lucy looked back and glared too. Blink rolled his eyes and shook his head. Lucy looked back at Spot's quirked eyebrow.

Race and Blink began walking in the restaurant's direction, thankful to leave the awkward situation, and Lucy followed suit. Jack remained facing the alley to rub his forehead to release tension. As she walked past Spot and they acted like complete strangers as though they had never met before in their lives, she felt his fingers lightly brush past hers, and for a single, brief moment she did not at all feel the sting of shame.

* * *

Note: This incident is somewhat autobiographical. Ha. Ha.


	19. Embrace

Disclaimer: This chapter is rated M for content and may be inappropriate for the...faint of heart.

* * *

"Shit…"

Lucy closed her eyes and bit down hard on her lip to keep from smiling. She was not happy about the situation but she had to admit it was a little bit hilarious in retrospect. Spot leaned in closer to look at his handiwork radiating from Lucy's neck. He cupped his hand around the back of her neck and she looked down to catch his expression. His eyes stared at the hickeys but the rest of his face was fighting the urge not to smirk.

"They hurt?" he asked.

_Yes_, she thought. They throbbed every now and then -- the area was particularly sensitive. "No, I can take it."

Spot softly blew at her skin and Lucy felt shivers up her spine. He looked up at her through the tops of his eyes and there was subtle movement on his face. There it was -- the smirk she was waiting for.

"Ugh!" She pushed him away at the sight of it and began stomping in the opposite direction. "You're so smug about it!"

"Aw, c'mon now…"

Spot ran after her and grabbed her arm from behind. Lucy spun around and he collided into her tightly, gripping her in his embrace. Of course she could not stay mad, not when he did things like that. She wrapped her arms around him and she felt her body so close to his she never wanted to leave that embrace. There was a strong need, a desire to be that physically close to each other. He touched the back of her head softly and briefly ran his fingers down her hair. _Remember this_, she thought to herself immediately, _this feeling won't last forever_.

"Your hair smells good," he said, taking her out of her reverie.

Lucy smiled and because her voice would have been shaky if she said anything, she merely turned her head and rested it on his shoulder comfortably.

"Conlon!"

Lucy opened her eyes and saw one of the Brooklyn newsies standing in the doorway of the lodging house bunkroom. Spot let go and turned to face the boy. Lucy felt the bareness of his arms leaving her.

"We got a small problem," the newsie said quickly.

Spot shot a glance back at Lucy, a warning signal almost. He said nothing but his face got suddenly very serious and he walked out of the bunkroom. Lucy nodded awkwardly to herself as she looked around at the empty space. She was the only person in the room, a stranger in unfamiliar territory. _Alright, then…_she thought blankly. She ambled over to the window, crawled out on the fire escape, and headed up to the rooftop.

She felt like a tourist. When she sat down on top of the lodging house she could see the Brooklyn Bridge in the close distance. Manhattan was different from this side of the river. It seemed lighter and Brooklyn was darker. She wasn't sure if all of it was metaphorical in thought or if there was physical evidence of the difference.

She started making her way to the ledge. A smile grew on her face as she thought of herself on the Manhattan rooftop, tempting herself to lean over the edge, just to feel that rush erupt in her nervous system, to get to the point past fear where the adrenaline pumped so fast she was a completely different person. She decided to tempt it again.

Could she get to that point? Was she still capable of it? She'd been tempting so many things lately, would the feeling come out of this silly little testimony of adrenaline?

She took in the similarity of how it was the nighttime. The sky was incredibly clear and it was the first time that evening she noticed the stars. They stared down at her as she inched towards the ledge.

With one step she could see the windows of the middle floor of the building across the street. One more step and she could see the entrance to the building. Her heartbeat picked up. She was starting to tempt it. The ground was in view now. She thought she'd feel more than what was going through her but she couldn't.

She shook her head. Was it not working? What went wrong? She pushed herself to lean out further and instead of adrenaline she just got scared.

"How many times I gotta tell ya not to jump?"

Lucy smiled, closed her eyes, and slowly backed away from the ledge. "I really wasn't."

"I know."

They both started walking towards the other. It was more of stroll, actually. They looked around their surroundings -- the blank rooftop that sat higher than the surrounding buildings with only the chimney rising up from the middle, and the cloudless, starry sky, and the moon -- until ultimately they wound up facing each other closely.

"Can I ask ya somethin'?" asked Lucy.

Spot placed his hands on either side of her waist, his eyes diving into hers. "Depends on the question."

"Funny. But seriously…why'd ya come up to the rooftop that first time?"

Spot's eyes drifted off and his head turned. His hands and arms snaked around her body, pulling her closer and closer. "Why so curious all 'a sudden?"

Lucy reciprocated and her arms wrapped around his neck tightly and the same feeling of desire in the embrace overtook her. "I dunno."

"I can't remembah why I came up there that night," he answered flatly.

A part of Lucy felt somewhat rejected. She had some kind of fanciful expectation that his answer would have been sweet, romantic, and earth-shattering to make her knees go weak.

"I just remembah you," he finished.

Lucy smiled. There it was. She pulled back and kissed him. It was just a peck at first but it very quickly intensified. In a matter of moments Spot's arms were so tightly roped around her she couldn't leave if she tried. She dug her fingers into his hair, pulling at its roots.

The moves Lucy had so very much enjoyed lately were coming out again; he was working them perfectly but with more vigor this time, and he grabbed either side of her hips and pushed her backwards so that her back hit the brick of the chimney hard. It startled her and the hardness of the brick hurt at first but it didn't take long for her to be distracted. His lips were irresistible.

They were moving so fast this time that everything was rushing from the top of her head to her fingertips to her toes, adrenaline pumping through her blood stream. She didn't need the ledge of the rooftop -- she had Spot Conlon to achieve the rush!

Lucy did not open her eyes for the entirety of it. She didn't need to see it to feel it. She let Spot do whatever he wanted to her for there was nothing he could do that she would deny at that point in time, there on that rooftop in Brooklyn. That infamous building -- of all the places in the world, it happened one night in Brooklyn.

And it was so easy to give in that way when there was no time to stop and think about what was going on. No time to think about her decisions. No room for second-guessing herself, not that she wanted to. Everything just happened. Like _that_. So quickly.

But it lasted a while. That was the tricky part. His hands were all over her, gripping and pulling, and his lips were doing just about the same. His breathing picked up, her breathing picked up. When he took it a step further, she did not deny it. She let it happen, let it all happen. She was so _in it _that even when her eyes were closed she couldn't see anything.

_Just feel everything that's happening_.

_Everything._

Then after several minutes, Lucy came to. She found herself in an extremely compromising position laying on the rooftop with Spot on top of her. Her legs were wrapped around him, her arms above her head. She opened her eyes. She knew instantly that they were on the brink of crossing a line they had not yet crossed. It was the only physical thing they had left to do, the next and last logical step…

She suddenly became very nervous.

Her eyes dizzily tracked over what she could see above her -- the trees, the sky, all natural things, because they were at the highest point she could see besides the sky. There was still the sky.

He pushed his lips against her neck over the sensitive flesh that had already been bruised and she wanted to react aloud to the force of it. He was being much more aggressive tonight. Or was it because that part of her body was already hurt? Did that make it worse? She bit down on her lip so hard she swore she tasted blood.

She felt feeling coming back to her body the more her thoughts started to invade her mind. _Why now? Why think now? I was doing so well, I wasn't thinking and it was perfect, why think now? _She shut herself up and closed her eyes.

She shed more clothes, more than had already been gone, and ripped off Spot's shirt over his head. He quickly tossed it behind him and dived back in again. He pushed her shoulders back and she felt gravel dig into her bare skin. The intensity was still building and the adrenaline was still pumping when he asked her if she wanted to -- to cross the line she knew was inevitable -- and because she blocked off her mind she did not think to deny it, not that she would. When it started happening moments after Lucy murmured her answer, _Yes_, into his ear, her voice swirling out of mouth like cigarette smoke, she felt pain. She squeezed her eyes shut through the worst of it, through the initial painful feeling, through the few moments that shocked her so that she heard nothing but the quieted, inaudible gasp that left her mouth.

_It hurts, it hurts, it hurts._

She opened her eyes again and bit down on her trembling lip again. _This is happening_. _This is happening to me_. So she made herself okay. Mind over matter. Do it.

_This cannot hurt me. This will not hurt me._

And it didn't seem so bad. She could see the sky. She could see the stars, the stars, the stars, concentrate on the stars. As she was moved her vision got hazy. The stars became a bright blur against the night sky. There was a tear in one of her eyes she had not anticipated and she dug her fingertips into the tight skin of his back and she felt her speeding heart race from her fingertips to his body. She felt her eyes welling up with hot tears and she fought her hardest to dry them -- she made her mind okay, she could make her body okay too.

Then the high started. The worst was over. And she was moving with ease and she liked it. Her eyes closed and she was floating above her body. It was easier now, so much easier. It was better, it was fine, it was good.

_This does not hurt me. This does not break me._

And then, and then, and then…It was over. And then it was done.

She felt numb. There was silence in her mind, a clearness and wispy calm that swirled around and made her dizzy in a state of quieted euphoria.

Spot rolled over to his back and closed his eyes to catch his breath. His arms were outspread, her head resting over one of them. His body glistened beneath the stars.

When Lucy opened her eyes at the finish she saw only the sky. She looked at the stars. Her heartbeat was starting to slow, her body was starting to calm down. There was a cool, late summer breeze then that caused her skin to crawl with goose bumps and it reminded her she was back in the real world, naked, on top of the lodging house in Brooklyn, with Spot Conlon, and they had just had sex. It took a while for words to come back to her mind and when she did she exhaled and thought, Did that just happen?

_Yes. That just happened._

Spot sat up and yanked his pants back on. Lucy was so lifted from her high she had nearly forgotten he was there. He looked different now. She felt her muscles tense in the slightest way and she remained still. Without looking into her eyes, for hers had returned to the stars, he lay back down and pulled her into his arms. She shut her eyes, wordlessly, easily, and rested her arm and head on his chest. If she listened close enough she could hear the pitter-patter of his heart. His body was incredibly still, frozen with her in his arms.

Silence was there for several minutes. He placed his hand on her head and stroked her hair, petting the chestnut-colored locks the way you would a puppy. Lucy bit down her lip. It _was_ bleeding a little bit.

* * *

A/N: For clarity, Lucy _did_ consent, there was _no_ force. But I've said it again, I'll say it before, now it gets a little more interesting...


	20. Run

Super-duper long chapter.

* * *

A week had passed and Lucy felt like it was a complete, blissful blur. Everything was suddenly different after that night on the rooftop. Nobody else changed really, but she certainly had. Her feelings for Spot intensified to an unbelievable degree, and they started seeing each other throughout the week much more often. Consequently, she got so little sleep that by the end of the work day she could hardly walk up the steps to her apartment.

Just as well, Lucy did not really enjoy many other people's company anymore -- she was downright bored without Spot there. Nobody's presence moved her and affected her quite like his. When she wasn't around Spot, she thought of little things that made butterflies flutter around her stomach when they were together: his crooked, up-to-something smile; the look on his face whenever he played with her hair; and the feeling of embrace she now got right after they would have sex. She loved the way his arm wrapped around her with her head resting easily on his chest. She needed to get used to the sex at first, get less anxious about it, but they had gotten together so much in such a short amount of time, she had no choice but to enjoy the closeness attached to it, and she wasn't going to complain about that.

Presently Lucy made her way to see Jack and the other boys. It was Sunday and as a result, it would seem the evening would be especially easygoing and calm. She had spent the morning lazily lying in bed with Spot and so her mood was cheerful and happy and lovely. It was reality that chipped away at that bliss though.

As she approached the statue of Horace Greeley, a small gang of boys who could have rightly passed for newsies rushed past her, bumping into her and throwing her off gait. She cursed beneath her breath and straightened out her clothes and hair. _Ugh, the real world. _One of them looked back at her as they walked away and winked creepily. She scoffed and continued on her way.

She took a seat on a bench across from the statue to wait for Jack. The newsies must have been out selling the evening editions for none of them were around. There was the group of boys present that had passed her moments ago, though, and they were gathered near the base of the statue conversing between spits and punches and obscenities.

The same boy who had winked at her was in the group. He glanced in Lucy's direction and smiled grossly, doing everything he could to come off perversely. Lucy shivered, utterly disgusted, and when he wouldn't take his eyes off her she got up to head to a better location. She fortunately did not have to walk very far, for Jack was already walking towards her.

"Thank God," she exclaimed, but Jack looked behind her at the group of boys.

"Stay heah," he instructed seriously and walked past her. Race, Blink, and David trailed Jack in his path.

"Heya Sully, how those love bites?" asked Race in passing.

"They're fine…" She watched curiously as the three boys went to take their place behind Jack as they approached the boys. She grabbed David's arm before he was out of reach. "What's goin' on?"

"That's Chase, the leader of the gang that's fighting with Brooklyn," he said quickly, leaving her to stand by Jack's side.

Lucy watched the interaction.

"Problem, boys?" asked Jack.

"Yeah, we heah you's gettin' involved in our mess, Kelly," said the boy who had practically harassed her from a distance. It must have been Chase. "Ya know, just 'cause you led that strike an' all don't mean you can go stickin' your nose in other people's business."

"Ain't gettin' involved, Chase, I'm just mindin' my own. Whatcha doin' this neck 'a Manhattan, huh?"

"Yeah, shouldn't you be sleepin' in a gutter this time 'a day?" snapped Race, to which Blink laughed.

Chase did not spit back in response but his eyes then flew to Lucy. She froze at the glance in her direction and she felt a nervous rush shoot through her body and it wasn't the good kind. He smiled perversely once more at her.

"That your lil' sistah, Kelly?" he said suddenly about Lucy. "Heard about her."

Jack lashed out at once and shoved Chase roughly enough for him to stumble backward. David glanced back quickly at Lucy who stood anxiously by herself.

"Shut your goddamn mouth, alright?" warned Jack.

Blink and Race grabbed Jack's arms to hold him back.

"She's pretty, dontcha think?" said Chase to the rest of his boys. They each looked in her direction, looking her up and down like a slab of meat.

"Shut up or I'll _make_ ya shut up, Chase, I swear!" Jack strained to keep his cool as both Blink and Race continued fighting to hold him back.

Lucy crossed her arms over her chest to cover herself, her heart beating furiously, and she made to turn around and walk in the other direction, but she was too frozen to even move. David turned her way and advanced towards her in her defense.

"Aw, c'mon, lighten up Kelly, I'm sure I ain't the only one whose made a move on 'er. Shit, I woulda --"

In a split second Jack had broken free from their grasp and Chase was on the ground with Jack punching him repeatedly. Chase's boys grabbed at Jack and fought with Blink and Race simultaneously. Lucy turned away at once, and while David intended to comfort her on some level, he rushed back to help the boys.

Lucy covered her hands with her face even though she was already turned around. Her mind raced a mile a minute as she kept thinking over and over, _Look what've you done, look what you've done_. She couldn't help at all thinking of Spot during those brief moments she was spinning out of control.

"Jack! Get off!" she heard David shout.

She turned to see the boys back away angrily from each other with David standing between Jack and Chase. He followed every one of Jack's movements so that he missed nothing if he tried going after him again. He pushed Jack's arms back every time he tried swinging them or throwing another punch.

"You just turn ya'self around right now, Chase, don't you look or even _think_ about lookin' at her, alright?!" shouted Jack.

"Just made a big mistake, Kelly!" replied Chase, wiping blood from his lip. "Didn't want you involved, I ain't sure I'll get past this shit now!"

"Just get the hell outta heah or else!"

"Or else what, Cowboy? What're you gonna do?"

"I'll kill ya, Chase!"

David forced Jack backward with all his might now. Lucy went stiff and felt her heart pounding in her eardrums at the threat that shot right out of her brother's mouth. Chase had merely glanced in her direction and made a few nasty comments, and just for that Jack was ready to kill him. She gasped then for air when she realized she was crying and hot tears flooded her eyes. She remained stationary, unable to watch the scene play out any further. She felt completely weak and guilty.

"Lucy?" she heard Sarah's voice from a distance. "My God, what's going on?"

Lucy blinked the tears from her eyes as Sarah rushed over, exchanging her glance between the boys trying to calm down the fight and Lucy who looked a nervous wreck. She pulled Lucy's frozen yet trembling form into a secure hug.

"What happened?" she urged.

"I was just…and Chase said somethin' about me and…Jack threatened to kill 'im!" she choked out.

"Kill who? Chase?"

"Yes!"

"Why, what happened?"

Lucy broke away and took deep breaths to compose herself. "I was just sittin' there and those boys are the gang from uptown and Chase's their leader, he made a few gross comments about me, and Jack, he just went off, tryin' to protect me and…Sarah, he threatened to kill him just by lookin' at me…"

Sarah looked down and then back up at Lucy, following her train of overwhelming thought. "And Spot."

Lucy buried her face in her hands. "He still doesn't know. But my God…he's done far more than comment on me…"

Sarah said nothing. She looked towards the boys who were now parting ways. Jack stomped his way across the square, the fight and vigor in him slowly evaporating. David looked up and connected gazes with Sarah, who grabbed hold of Lucy's shoulders quickly.

"Do not tell him right now, Lucy, do _not _tell him," she said quickly in a rough voice. "He's way too angry right now."

Lucy said nothing yet nodded and wiped tears from her eyes and cheeks. She composed herself as best as she could and turned around with puffy eyes. Jack walked towards her and grabbed her arm, walking her roughly in his direction several feet from everyone else. She could feel all the anger from the fight now streaming into her arm.

"I'm sorry, I swear, I didn't do anything --"

"No," interrupted Jack. "I know. Sorry for that."

Lucy's shoulders fell and she pinched the bridge of her nose tensely, breathing to calm herself.

"I just gotta know one thing," he forced out. Lucy looked up and he pointed to the healing hickeys on her neck. "Are those…from any one 'a them?"

She looked at him directly and said with feeling, "_No_. No."

"Good." He breathed a little easier. "'Cause I don't wanna know the guy anymore but if it was any 'a them…there'd be some problems."

Lucy gulped, quickly imagining within a second how he would have reacted if she had said "yes," if she had told him that the person who gave her those hickeys was sneaking around knowingly behind Jack Kelly's back with his little sister and she did nothing to stop it, if she had laid it all out there…What would have happened?

_Calm down_, her inner calm told her. _He doesn't know, don't overreact. _Lucy nodded speechlessly. Jack patted her shoulder a few times in resolution -- he and Lucy rarely hugged -- and they started walking back to the group. Sarah placed her arm around Lucy's shoulder when they got there. She felt her conscience telling herself fiercely, _You're still okay._

* * *

The day after Jack got into a fight with Chase, Lucy practically sprinted to the docks of Manhattan after work. She stared ambitiously at the Brooklyn Bridge and the world that lay on the other side of it. So far so many things she associated with Brooklyn were scandalous -- escaping there after she told Spot that Sarah knew about them, drinking her weight in alcohol at the lodging house, and losing her virginity to Spot on the rooftop. She gulped down her hesitation and began walking.

The streets of Brooklyn felt foreign to her when she made it there by herself. She was a lost, little girl in a very big city all of a sudden, and even though her feelings for Spot were so intense that she knew he was there somewhere, she was very nervous.

_Interesting_, she thought. _I never used be so fearful of these things before everything started happening._

Before long and after she searched the depths of her memory, she located the lodging house. She became more and more strung-out the closer she got. But she remembered what it felt like to be with Spot in his arms, she remembered that feeling and let it consume her.

There were a few boys on the porch of the lodging house and they simply glanced at her without giving a greeting, their faces blank to her even though they all knew who she was.

"Hi, is Spot around?" she squeaked.

"Huh?" One of the boys leaned forward, jutting his ear out.

"Is --"

"Lucy." Like magic, Spot appeared in the building's entrance, his face complacent save for a hint of confusion at the sight of her. "What's wrong?"

Fidgety, she stammered in response, "I just -- there's somethin'--"

One of the boys smacked another and laughed obnoxiously, "Two bucks says she's knocked up." The rest of the newsies on the porch laughed.

Lucy closed her mouth and looked to the side. She felt her fingers scratch together. She felt frazzled in a combination of stupidity and embarrassment. _What a mistake to come here_, she told herself.

Spot smacked the boy who made the comment on the back of his head hard and muttered something inaudible at him. He set his gaze on Lucy as he walked down from the porch and approached her. As he did she longed faster and faster to be secure in his embrace. He put his hand on her shoulder.

"What's goin' on?" he asked.

"Well, it's just, ugh, it's so stupid, I shouldn't've even come here…" She started to turn away but he squared her shoulders back to him.

"Tell me," he directed.

"Okay, yesterday those boys from some gang in Manhattan, ya know? The ones you guys're kinda fighting with, I guess?"

Spot eyed her narrowly when he hesitated to answer, "Yeah…How d'you know about all 'a that?"

"I dunno, I catch things now and then, but anyway…I was just going to meet Jack yesterday when Chase starts makin' all these rude comments to me and just bein' real perverted and everything, so Jack goes off on him. Chase's all, 'I'm not the only one to make a move on her' and all this shit, so Jack and Blink and Race and everyone start this huge fight, and Jack's all, 'I'll kill you, don't ever talk to her,' and it's just…too much! I can't, I can't handle it, I didn't know what else to do, I…" She dropped her head and buried it in her hands.

Spot paused as he soaked in the contents of Lucy's story. He studied her for a moment before putting his arm around her shoulder and directing her away from the street and into the alley between the lodging house and another building.

"Well. This sure gets interesting, don't it?" Spot finally said in response to the story. He leaned against a wall and folded his arms across his chest, his cane tight within his grasp lying parallel to his side. "Are you alright?"

Lucy stood across from him and it seemed like they stood at a significant distance. "I'm sorry."

Spot sighed and merely narrowed his eyes to stare at the ground. It was silent for too long and it pained Lucy to wait for it to end.

"Why'd Chase and Jack start talkin' to begin with?" asked Spot.

"Uh," Lucy searched her memory -- she was not really here to exchange information. "I think they said somethin' about Jack getting involved in their mess."

Spot nodded in concentration. Lucy couldn't help the resentment she felt towards him. She had run to him first thing from getting out of work all day to get some support and comfort, and here she was being treated like a newsie. The moment she thought of how it frustrated her, she let slip a scoff and a head shake.

"Did you talk to Sarah about it?" asked Spot.

"No."

"Why not? Ain't that what you chicks do?" A weak smile appeared on his face.

"I didn't wanna talk to Sarah…" she trailed quietly.

Spot seemed to pick up on her subtle signals and pulled her into a hug. Lucy let the feeling wash over her, resting her head on his shoulder. She loved the way his body leaned perfectly against hers like it was just the right fit and the way his arms so warmly enveloped her entirely. She could calm down here, catch her breath and relax.

"I'm guessin' he don't know about us or else I'd be lyin' dead in a puddle by now," said Spot cynically.

Lucy laughed. "No. He doesn't know."

Spot pulled away and pecked her lightly on the lips. "'Cause according to you I'm 'not that good a fighter'. Right?"

She pressed her lips together to hide a laugh as she recalled the comment she made about Jack going after the boy who gave her hickeys. "You know I was jokin'."

"Yeah, yeah, I know how ya really feel…" he teased, a crooked smile present.

One of the boys then called out loudly like a warning signal, "Oh hey, Jack Kelly and David Jacobs!"

Lucy and Spot stared at each other in shock for barely a second before they repelled from each other like polar opposite magnets. Spot took off towards the street and Lucy bolted towards the end of the alley which ended in merely a heap of trash and a wall. She searched the dead-end for anything to hoist herself over the wall but nothing was sturdy enough. She heard Jack and David near the porch of the lodging house so she pressed her side against the wall with her back towards the alleyway entrance, crouched down, and covered her head with both arms.

"Heya boys," she heard Spot greet casually.

"Spot. Fellas," said Jack flatly. "I'll make this pretty quick. We had a little run-in with Chase yesterday, had a minor understanding. Long story short, Manhattan's involved now."

There was silence among the Brooklynites. Lucy pictured them exchanging hard glances between each other and Spot.

"Your best bet is to side with us, obviously," added David. Lucy noted how calm and intelligent his voice carried and how impressive it suddenly seemed. "We've got a lot more support around the city than they do because of the strike."

Again, silence. Lucy remembered all the times Jack and David talked about Spot's infamous arrogance and how he was unwilling to consider Jack the better newsie for all of New York.

"Well…this is all news to me," said Spot, lying between his teeth. "What happened?"

"Chase's a real son of a bitch is what happened," snapped Jack.

"Aw, don't say that, Jack, his ma's prolly dead too."

"You know what I mean." The hardness and emotion in Jack's voice frightened Lucy.

"Yeah, yeah…"

Lucy felt a rustling around her feet and her ankles a faint tickle. She looked down to see a fat, grotesque, gray rat crawling around the trash. She stuck a fist between her teeth to prevent screaming in disgust. Its thick, wiry whiskers and pointed, sharp nose sniffed the dark blue fabric of her skirt, and its sharply clawed paws crept around her legs. Trying to remain calm, she reached up and grabbed a broken piece of wood from the piles of trash.

"Well, lemme think on it --"

The voices paused. Lucy had loudly dragged the wood out and smacked it against the wall to scare the rat away.

" -- Alright?" finished Spot, distracting them from the sound in the alleyway.

Jack sighed and added forcefully, "Just don't take too long, Spot, alright? I want an answer by tomorrow."

"I'll answer you when I answer you, Kelly," he countered, the fire in him rising.

"Alright. Good. Let us know," said David, intervening between the two leaders' tempers.

Lucy pressed herself against the brick wall to get the furthest distance from the rat. It had not scurried away like she had hoped when she hit the wall with the wood. She waited for the absence of Jack and David's voices and the addition of a few sly comments of the Brooklyn newsies about them before springing to her feet and darting out of the alley, shaking herself to get rid of the feeling of the rat.

"You alright?" asked Spot.

"_Ugh_. Rats." She stepped out into the street in order to feel the least bit cleaner and inadvertently looked into the direction in which Jack and David walked.

Just then, as if her gaze would ultimately do her in, David looked behind him in a brief, momentary glimpse right in her direction. Right at the spot at which she stood.

"_Shit_." Lucy flew back into the alley and pressed her back against the wall. _No, no, no, there's no way he could've seen me, that's just not humanly possible, I'm way too far away…_

Spot circled back towards her in forced, amused confusion. "What now?"

Lucy shook her head, closing her eyes. "It's not a good day."

She looked down the alley to her left at the wall and at the trash. At that moment after seeing David's face turn back in her direction, she would have rather curled up and stuck with the rats, for the sustained fear she felt creeping through body was enough to make her wish she was one of them. In her head she saw his face turn around to see her. Had he seen her? Did he know?

_No_, she told herself in order to feel better. _He doesn't know._

She sighed and felt better but the thought still lingered. Did David know about her and Spot?


	21. Tension

A few days later, Lucy sat at Tibby's uncomfortably in her chair with her eyes frozen on the street outside the window. Her back was stiffly postured a few inches away from her seat and the tension in her tightly crossed ankles made it impossible for her to relax.

"I'll have water and soup," said David to the waiter.

And not to mention, David sat right next to her.

Lucy felt a balled-up piece of napkin hit her cheek. The distraction made her break her nervous concentration and her gaze shifted to Jack sitting across from her.

"What's with you?" he asked, tearing his napkin again.

"Nothing!" she replied in an overly cheerful voice, one that might draw even more attention to her strange behavior. "I'm fine. Just fine."

Sarah's eyes met Lucy's, questioning without speaking if she was really okay. Lucy shook her head. _Not now._

David leaned back in his seat and sighed tiredly. On any other day Lucy would have asked what was wrong since she and David could converse so easily, but her jaw was locked this time and she refused to unhinge it. She was too afraid the question would just fall out of her mouth, _Did you see me with Spot?_

"What's with _you_?" repeated Jack, this time to David.

David shrugged. For the first time Lucy looked at him: his face was hard and tense, his gaze fixed upon nothing ahead of him, unmoving. All the tension in him settled in his firm jaw line and stiff brow. It was the first time she saw David act this way, for usually he was polite and talkative and she enjoyed his presence. But now – sitting right next to her, inches away – he was cold.

"Gettin' harder to keep up with school,' he finally replied. "I missed a lot because of the strike and now…with everything else starting to happen, it's just a little overwhelming."

Jack nodded briefly but said with a hint of resentment, "You don't gotta wear ya'self out with the newsies then. I got a handle on things with Chase 'n Brooklyn."

Lucy and Sarah glanced at one another with the surprisingly bitter tone of Jack's voice.

"It's not like that," countered David defensively.

"No, you'se got more shit on your mind, I got that."

"Jack, I can do both, it's not like I'm abandoning you."

"Who said anythin' about abandoning?

"You just implied I was bitching about being tired!"

"'Cause you are, you'se about to pass out on the table!"

"Because of school, not from this –"

"Then maybe we should eat fast so you can go home an' go to bed –"

"It's six in the eve—Alright, I'm not doin' this," stopped David, more rational now. He sat up and adjusted in his chair, shaking his head downward. Jack loosened his red handkerchief around his neck.

Sarah and Lucy looked around awkwardly, trying not to make sudden movements. Lucy tried to figure in her mind why Jack was so tense as well; searching her memory she questioned whether or not they had heard back from Spot about his decision to "align" with them. She nervously tapped her foot against the ground under the table as she then thought of why David was so tense.

Was David really tired from school? Or was he really stressed out from the newsies? Was it Jack? She tapped her foot even harder and in her mind she pictured David turning around to see her with Spot in Brooklyn. Was he acting this way as an excuse not to confront her about that?

_Taptaptaptaptap._

Had the possible knowledge of her secret relationship made him conflicted about everything else? Was she to blame for his acting and feeling this way? And this fight?

Lucy felt a hand grip her knee suddenly and she stopped tapping. It was David.

"_Stop._"

She looked at him and his intent expression. Her mouth went dry.

"Okay, who had the soup?" asked the waiter, suddenly appearing with their meals.

David turned away from Lucy to retrieve his food. The meal was unpleasant as if the food absorbed the tension in the air. It was uncomfortably silent, the only eye contact being between Sarah and Lucy, speaking through their expressive gazes.

Moments later, a respite came interrupting everyone thinking intensely to themselves, and Jack looked out the window and put his food down. Neither of the girls looked outside, too nervous. Jack muttered to himself, "Bettah be what I think it is," and scooted back his chair without excusing himself. He turned to walk away, stopped, and wheeled around as if forcing himself.

"You comin' er what?" he asked David presumptuously.

"I think you got this one," he replied sourly in a low voice.

Sarah kicked him under the table and motioned with her head for him to go. David sighed and threw down his napkin as he rose to join Jack. Once they were outside Sarah let out an irritated laugh and shook her head.

"My goodness," she said with a sigh.

"_So_ dramatic."

Sarah leaned closer to the table, her tone shifting to curiosity. "What's really going on with you?"

Lucy cringed and looked around to make sure no one else was in earshot. She did not want to tell Sarah for she did not want to cause any more possible tension, but if she did not get it out to someone she would implode. "I think David knows about me and Spot," she finally spat out.

Sarah gasped. "Are you sure?"

"No, that's the thing…" Lucy's head fell into her hands and onto the table. "I was in Brooklyn with Spot when David and Jack came to talk with him. I hid in an alley with fuckin' rats and trash, and when I came back out again when they left – or thought they left – David looked back at where we were standing and I think he saw me…"

"Oh no…" Sarah's stiff form crumpled and she held her face in her hands.

"Oh, please don't act like that, it only makes it worse…" pleaded Lucy, shrinking further into her seat. "Has David said anything to you?"

"No, he's not said a word. I mean, he's been away from the apartment a lot lately, we haven't gotten a real chance to talk."

"Is it even something he'd tell you about?" Lucy was desperate. Now that someone else possibly knew she wanted to know every angle to explore it. To obsess over it.

Sarah shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, I'd like to think he would."

Lucy felt her face heat up and the familiar waves of panic surging through her body. She hated this feeling, the fearful nerves upsetting her stomach and making her head ache from all the racing thoughts. It had all the ingredients of the rush she so desperately sought, but oh, how different this feeling was. This rush was wrapped in fear, not thrill. The adrenaline that flew through her blood was from being afraid of getting caught, not harmless rule-breaking. She knew there was nothing good that could come out of this particular rush – people could get hurt.

Sarah scooted Lucy's glass of water into her line of sight. She took a few sips and caught her breath. She studied briefly the way Sarah was looking at her; it was no longer her usual understanding look, but pity. It seemed worse than Sarah's obligation to take her side, to pat her shoulder and tell her it would be alright.

"I don't know what's gonna happen if David tells Jack," said Lucy.

Outside the window the two boys came into view walking toward Tibby's and one boy was with them: Spot. The closer they got to the restaurant the more Lucy's thoughts became confusing. She was unsure how to respond to the sight of all three boys there together, two of which possibly keeping secrets from the other. A moment later, Spot glanced up in Lucy's direction. He did a double-take upon the surprise but with the slightest hint of a smile, he winked.

Lucy's body reacted automatically: she felt butterflies flutter in her stomach, overtaking the panic, and she hid a blushing smile that wiped away from the worrisome look.

"Well, this sure gets interesting," interrupted Sarah in a deliberate tone.

"Huh?" Lucy looked at her face and the smile vanished.

"Do you see what just happened?"

"What?"

"A moment ago you were practically in hysterics over this and the second – _the second_ – you see him it's like nothing bad ever happened. Don't you see it? What he's doing to you?"

"Okay, wait." Lucy held up a hand defensively. "Don't blame all this on him. It ain't like he's been screwin' _himself_, alright?"

Sarah was speechless, trying to hide her shock. Lucy realized Sarah had no idea they were now having sex.

"I mean, there're two people involved in this relationship, it's not just him callin' all the shots."

"Ya sure about that?'

"Yes, Sarah, I'm sure about that." Her tone was deliberate and defensive.

Lucy flickered her gaze back to the boys at the window. The way they were standing, David and Jack faced each other while Spot was at their sides, facing Lucy. He noticed her watching innocently though he made no obvious acknowledgement of it. Instead he let the tight grip he had on his black, gold-tipped cane slide suggestively down the phallic object. She snorted an embarrassed laugh and turned her face away. Sarah's cold stare stopped her giggles immediately.

"You need to stop."

"Oh, c'mon, I'm not even doing anything…" Lucy let her eyes drift toward the boys again. Jack was spit-shaking with Spot and as soon as Jack and David turned to walk back inside, Spot motioned for Lucy to come outside. Without thinking twice, she threw down her money for the meal and got up.

Unexpectedly, Sarah jumped from her chair and stepped right in front of Lucy. "I'm perfectly serious, Lucy. You need to stop."

Without thinking, once again, Lucy's words shot like a bullet right out of her mouth: "I _can't_ stop, Sarah, that's the point. You don't see what he's really like with me. I can't just give him up. And that, Miss know-it-all, pure-as-air, would-never-harm-a-fly, is something you will _never_ understand. Get out of my way."

Not checking for a reaction of giving Sarah time for a comeback, Lucy breezed past her. She put on a sad, pitiful face when she ran into Jack. "Hey, I'm sorry, I've just come down with somethin', I'm not feelin' too good. I'm gonna head home."

David said nothing and stared at her.

"Ya sure?" asked Jack.

"_Yes_."

"Don't need anything?'

"_No_."

"Okay."

She could not get out fast enough. Just as she opened the door Jack called out, "I'm gonna stop by later, I gotta talk to ya!"

Lucy absently waved in response and rushed out. She followed Spot who was yards ahead of her for a few blocks, never once taking her eyes off him, her adrenaline pumping with the anticipation of what lay ahead of her. She bumped into strangers rudely and even knocked someone completely over but did not look back. She could have fallen into a bottomless pit and the pure excitement of chasing Spot would have lifted her right up to the ground again.

Eventually they ended up close to her apartment at the restaurant – their restaurant. Spot went into the alley and down into the basement where they once had drinks and Lucy had confessed that Sarah knew about them. She trotted down the stone stairwell into the ground, viewing from the outside of the building that the inside was completely empty.

As soon as she stepped inside Spot had his arms around her, catching her from the doorway and kissing her hungrily on arrival. Lucy became so lost in him, in this blissful oblivion, that all memory of his rudeness towards her in Brooklyn, the possibility of David seeing her there, and now the tension with Sarah were all put on hold. Besides, she could never will herself to think too much with Spot now anyway, and that's why sneaking around with him felt so good.

"Missed you," he said quickly, unfastening the buttons of her blouse in record time.

"You too," she said just as hurriedly, stepping out of her shoes and yanking the straps of his suspenders down.

"Good day?" He swiftly wriggled her out of her blouse and unzipped her skirt.

She threw his shirt over his head and arms. "Sure."

The conversation was finished the more the layers were shed and the more the kissing replaced the talking. Lucy forgot all about how painful the panicked rush was that she had earlier, for the rush she had now was overtaking it all.

That's the thing about addiction – nothing else matters when you've come back to that high. All the problems associated with it come to a screeching halt when you give in to give up, no matter how short or long the high will last. With Spot, all the tension Lucy could ever have was suddenly vanished to the point where she was numbingly high in his presence and the real world just did not exist. It did not help he possessed so many addictive qualities that she could not get enough of -- he was exactly Lucy's kind of drug, and there was nobody in the world who could make her give him up.


	22. Reality

The downside to addiction is the reality that hits when you come back down. A short while later after she and Spot parted, reality hit Lucy with three hard knocks at her apartment door. She opened it to her initial surprise and saw Jack.

"Hi again," she said in a singsong voice.

"Hi." He stepped in, eyeing her as she turned to walk to her bed. "So you feelin' bettah?"

"Oh!" She remembered her fake illness. "Yeah, I think it was just a brief, ya know, stomach thing."

They sat down on Lucy's bed and she snuggled up to the corner, leaning into the wall and curling her legs up to her stomach, trying her damnedest to look innocent.

"Few things I wanna talk about: Did you and Sarah get in some kinda fight at Tibby's?"

"No, why?" replied Lucy half a second after Jack finished the question.

Jack's eyebrows pulled together briefly. "When Dave and I came back inside she looked pretty upset."

"Was she angry or sad 'cause there's a big difference?" she said hastily.

"I dunno…frustrated, it seemed like."

"Well, did she _say_ we got in a fight? What'd she say?" It was starting to feel like an interrogation.

"No. But she was fine when we left you two, and pissed off when we --"

"Pissed off?"

"--Yeah, I guess…I asked her what happened, what you talked about --"

"Did she tell you?"

"No…she just said not to worry about it."

Lucy let out a sigh of relief. After a few moments she realized by Jack's confused expression that she had gotten a little paranoid and a little suspicious in the way she had reacted. For a quick moment she feared there was too much suspicion in Jack's eyes that he would start to really question her.

Then the guilt started to slowly creep in: even though Lucy was horrible to Sarah, she had still kept her secret from Jack.

"She's right, though, you don't need to worry," added Lucy to quell the tension she had created.

"Alright then…" he shook his head. "Spot came to talk to me and Dave, that's why we left."

Her thoughts shamelessly drifted to her own "talk" with Spot in the basement right afterward. "Yeah, I saw that."

"Yeah? Spot's on our side now, even thought I think it pains him not to do this whole thing by himself. But…it might get a little ugly around heah for a little while just to warn ya."

"Why?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if ya saw some of us with black eyes or weird cuts 'n bruises an' shit. Or if any of us go missing for a few days."

"Missing? What the hell does that mean, they kidnap you?"

Jack chuckled. "Not really, but maybe. Sometimes. Or we'se just lyin' low, who knows? It's a street war, a lot's possible. Basically all the tension just explodes and we gotta release it the only way we know how: throwin' punches."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "So why not have one big fight and get it over with?"

Jack paused, staring ahead of him. "Well, what's the fun in that?"

Lucy sighed, shaking the absurd expression from her face. "You're real relaxed about all 'a this."

"Yeah, well…I realized there's no way out of it now. Might as well run with it."

"Doesn't it scare you?"

"Nah. Happens all the time. All the adrenaline around the lodgin' house and shit…it can get exciting."

Lucy still felt confused. In no way did she think a "street war" would be something to be so lax about. After all, she could think of one very recent event that did not seem too exciting: "It didn't seem all fun and games when you tried soakin' Chase a few days ago."

Jack looked at her and paused, measuring how to properly give an answer. "That…was different. He hit below the belt with what he was sayin'. I didn't even think about it, I just had to knock 'im out. He was outta line, I had to straighten him out."

Lucy nodded trying to get on the same page. She understood quite well his motives. "So…this is all starting 'cause 'a me? Because Chase said a few sick things about me?"

"No, this ain't your fault. Chase is the one who got us involved, he was just lookin' for an easy way to piss me off. He knew we weren't really lookin' to get in to any kinda street war real soon. This started 'cause 'a _Brooklyn_, not you."

She felt much less guilty now, but the fear she felt that day still seemed very real. She gulped, her mouth dry. "What happened between them?"

Jack looked up in thought trying to recall to origin of the rivalry. In a very cavalier tone of voice he replied, "I think Spot was screwin' around with Chase's girl."

The words made Lucy go completely rigid. Her mouth went bone dry again as after a moment or two she felt her heartbeat reverberating in her eardrums. "They'd go into…battle over that?"

Jack laughed. "_Battle_. That's a funny way to put it, but yeah. Thing is, the girl probably meant nothin' to Spot 'cause that's how he is, always makin' sure he one-up's his opponent. Guys've gone to 'battle' for a lot less."

Lucy was unsure how to feel about this, making the decision of how her outward appearance should react a little difficult. Was there a correlation between Spot's motives then and his motives now? Could the fact that her relationship with Spot be cause enough for a battle? _No_, she told herself. _This was different_. Neither of them was cheating on someone with each other, and so far no one had really gotten hurt, no permanent damage done, nothing that could not be mended…

"Third thing…" interrupted Jack, taking Lucy out of her spiraling mind. "Medda's havin' a show next Friday."

"Medda?" She was thankful for the new topic and she smiled -- she could not believe she had been in New York all this time and not made it to Irving Hall where she and Jack would sneak in and Medda would let them watch from backstage when they were kids.

"Yeah. We had a rally there during the strike, didn't end up too good…but Pulitzer's actually puttin' this one on so we don't gotta pay nothin. I think he's tryin' to make the rest 'a the city think he's really a nice guy."

"So you defeated Pultizer _and_ he's offerin' a free show? You must've had him scared pretty bad, Jack," she teased.

"I do what I can," he said smugly.

Lucy let herself enjoy the brief laughter and joking until the daunting, lingering thoughts came running back, the thoughts of the street war and the tension that would inevitably be present now for a while until it was all over and done. "You seem less…agitated…now that all this is goin' down. What changed? Seemed like you didn't want anything to happen."

"I didn't. But that was before I felt threatened by Chase. Now I wouldn't mind beatin' him to a pulp after messin' with you."

"But I didn't do anything to him, I don't get why --"

"It's not _you_ he was threatening. It was me. You alone don't make a difference. You as my sister makes a huge difference."

Lucy looked down to trace the threads of fabric in her dress, still feeling as though her mere presence in this particular situation had made such a big difference in the direction of newsies politics. "So I'm just a pawn in all 'a this?" she joked self-deprecatingly.

"You'se just a pawn. That's the gist."

"Well. That makes me feel just great."

Jack laughed. "Sorry."

"Bastard."

"If I'm a bastard, so are you."

"True."

* * *

Days later as Lucy worked steadfastly on patching up a hole in a garment, the needle weaving in and out of the ivory frock, she pricked herself. Before the blood even appeared, she chucked the dress onto the table and backed away -- she remembered clearly how Molly had fired the previous assistant for having ruined a dress by bleeding on it.

Lucy stood against the wall nervously. She squeezed her index finger into her hand, creating a fist as warm blood trickled into it, a tiny amount, yes, but she could still feel it. She studied the shockingly white, expensive, valuable, pure fabric. There was no visible trace of red, but the thought coming so close to destroying such a thing shook Lucy to the core in an inexplicable way.

"Are ya done yet, child, with that dress?" Molly came hurrying into the room, bursting open the door and entering the room loudly. She looked at the dress on the table and then Lucy clutching her hand so tight her knuckles were white and shaking.

"I think you need to finish it," she choked out. "I'm just about done but not quite."

Molly's screwed up face ran over Lucy's meek form. She stepped forward and yanked Lucy's wrist towards her and uncurled her fingers, tiny traces of red inside her sweaty palm.

"There's nothing on the dress," said Lucy at once. "Not a drop."

Molly pursed her lips. She moved to the garment and scanned it meticulously. As she did so, Lucy suddenly felt a lump in her throat and she was not sure why -- she was not sure if it had been from the nerves or the fact that she had come so close to getting screamed at, possibly hit, fired, and thrown out of her apartment in one quick motion.

"Alright," said Molly finally, her voice noticeably annoyed. "You go ahead home, then, I can't afford you makin' anymore mistakes like this, nor can I afford you getting paid for not bein' here, so this is comin' out of your paycheck."

Lucy was too intimidated to object, and so she merely nodded.

Molly turned to face her, her red, frizzy hair alive with wisps around her face. "Out!"

After Lucy scurried out of the shop in a near sprint, she was just about to go upstairs to her apartment when she saw Sarah approaching in the near distance. Her first instinct was to turn and run in the other direction, a scoff slipping from her throat, but she stopped and slowly turned back around. Sarah's head tilted towards the ground as she walked, an air of dejection quite obvious. As she came into closer proximity, she saw Lucy standing and gave a weak smile.

"I…am sorry," she said, her voice shaking a bit, and Lucy was taken aback by her nerves. "I shouldn't have told you what to do in such a direct way."

Lucy sighed. Truthfully, she had not given much thought to her fight with Sarah, but her immediate response was, "Don't be sorry."

"No, I'm --"

"I'm the one who should apologize. You've kept my secret from Jack for a long time. You could've told him right then but you didn't."

Sarah nodded understandingly. She finally sighed as if a weight miraculously lifted from her shoulders. "Well, then. Good. Great. I wanted to get everything settled before the show coming up."

"Yes, I'm not sure what to expect. I'm happy to see Medda again, I hope she hasn't changed and she recognizes me, but how much of an event is this gonna be?"

"Well…the rally was pretty big but that was for the strike, so it's hard to say. I know the two things all the guys seem to be talking about are Chase and the show. They hardly ever have events like this to go to. If they do they obviously sneak in and it'll just be a few of them, but I know people are looking forward to it a lot."

_I wonder…_pondered Lucy in the paused conversation. She imagined Spot at the rally, wondered if he had been there as well, questioned whether or not he would be at this one. She had very nearly asked Sarah if she knew the answer but quickly thought otherwise. Instead, she asked what kind of dress she was supposed to wear.

And so they discussed clothes and hair and shallow, light-hearted things on the street in a manner of best friends discussing a date. Lucy listened, though half-absentmindedly, for her inquiring mind kept picturing and hoping Spot would be present and it made her excited. But her logic -- an infrequent presence when she thought of Spot -- told her not to get her hopes up, not to get herself excited over something that may not take place. He was from Brooklyn. And this was not the strike rally. Jack, arguably, didn't like the guy outside of newsies politics. Had he any say in the matter, and he most likely did, Brooklyn was not on the invite list.

Even if Spot _was_ there, what good would it serve Lucy? She would not be able to so much as make eye contact with him, let alone talk to him. And could she even stand next to him without giving herself away based on the expression on her face? She had no control over the emotions she had with Spot. She was not strong enough to fool everyone there. She was probably not even strong enough to fool David.

Yet there was fleeting hope, the addiction taking over, that he would, in fact be in attendance, for a mere glance from him in her direction could be just enough dose until she could be with him again.

* * *

A/N: Oooh, I wonder what sort of performances will take place at Medda's, on AND off stage. Haha. I don't have to wonder because I'm the author! Bad joke. Anyway. You know what to do...


	23. Vaudeville, Part One

_Emily Sullivan was looking too tired to be healthy these days. As she sat at the kitchen table, dressed her in best dress, hair curled and makeup perfected, she twirled the gold band wedding ring about her left finger to the beat of her own heart. The band was fitting looser on her finger now, and its rhythm, ironically, matched the clock on the wall. And she looked so sad to see the minute hand inch closer and closer to the hour mark._

_Lucy crept out of her bedroom, as she had done so many times during the night, and found her mother in such a state of melancholy. Yet as soon as Emily heard the four-year-old girl's footsteps, she sat up with pleasant surprise._

_"It's so late, dear, what are you doin' awake?"_

_"I can't sleep until you get back."_

_Emily hoisted Lucy up and onto her lap. "Well, I'm here now."_

_"Did you and Papa have fun?"_

_Emily gave her best smile, a grin that could have given a thousand different answers. "It was so fun that your papa decided to go out again. But I couldn't stay away, I told him and pointed my finger at him and said, 'No, I have to get back to my little Lucy.'"_

_The young girl smiled at the blatant lie, but a child would never detect the obvious made-up story. In truth, Emily had not left the house for the evening at all. _

_As a treat, her husband William had planned an evening for the two of them alone, for dinner and a show at Irving Hall. It had been planned for weeks. The married couple had been on poor terms lately and with William's new (albeit illegal) job, he had been able to dig the family out of debt and put together a night such as this. And yet, William had not come home since he had left that morning, leaving his wife all dressed up with nowhere to go._

_Emily read the hour hand pointing to the ten on the clock on the wall. She rested Lucy's head beneath her chin and bit down hard on her lips, keeping inside the lump that had quickly grown in her throat. But it was only moments later that it was useless, for tears got the better of her and dripped the black coal of her eye makeup down her cheeks._

* * *

"I can smell my hair burning."

Sarah rolled her eyes as she took away the curling iron from Lucy's hair. "Your hair is not burning."

"I can smell it, though."

"You'll be thankful when I'm done, the back of your hair looks gorgeous."

"That's a pretty big game you're talkin'."

Sarah laughed. "Just shut up and let me finish."

Lucy was feeling as impatient as ever, for it seemed as if she had been in Sarah's room getting ready for the show for days. It had only been two hours, but for someone who hardly ever had occasions to get ready for in the first place, it seemed like forever and a day. She flickered her gaze towards the mirror on the wall, only managing to catch a glimpse of the finished product.

"Thank God you're already done getting ready. No offense, but I think I've got my beauty school fix for the rest of the year."

"No offense taken. But if you keep whining I _will_ catch your hair on fire."

Lucy had been anxious for this night for the past week. And what had made her more anxious was the fact that she had not seen or spoken with Spot in a week either. He had not bothered to drop by her apartment in the middle of the night or send any kind of message her way. It was agony -- every night she would fall asleep uneasily in hopes of hearing the familiar pebbles against her window or a knock on her door, and there he would be, hopelessly and devastatingly handsome, leaning against the doorframe with his thumbs resting easily to his suspenders and his eyes greeting her more sensually than a kiss. But he had done none of those. It was as if he had simply disappeared. She couldn't even remember the last thing he had said to her.

She got angry every time she woke up in the morning after a night of tossing and turning in her isolated room in complete solitude. Where was her boy? Her fix? She could hardly get through an entire day without so much as a glimpse from him on the street. The more the days dragged on, the more it infuriated her. Every morning she wanted to rip her hair out to release her madness, but she always found a way to calm herself down by coming up with excuses for him.

_He's too busy. He's overwhelmed with the street war. He's sick. The walk to Manhattan is getting old. _

They got more creative as the days passed. Every so often the thought came to her: _He is done with me. _But, stopped dead in her tracks, she shoved that idea aside for it was too absurd for her to even dream about. _Impossible_, she scoffed. _These things don't end with the snap of a finger. I'm far too involved to get out without proper explanation and discussion._

"There. Perfect!" Sarah gave her a hand mirror and Lucy got up to look at herself in the standing mirror.

She smiled. The curls were perfect. And when she and Sarah finally changed into their dresses, put on their shoes and walked into the kitchen to meet the boys sitting at the table, David smiled momentarily in a way that made her think he forgot at all about his being so icy to her ever since that day in Brooklyn.

"Oh, you all are going to have so much fun," gushed Esther. "Makes me wish I was sixteen again."

"Let's not wish too hard, dear," teased Meyer.

As they scooted out the door, Jack held Lucy back for a moment as he held out another picture of their parents he had been keeping from her. He said lowly and without much emotion, for Jack hardly ever slipped sentimental feelings to her, "Kinda look like her tonight, no?"

Lucy cocked her head to the side, comforted, looking at her mother at her age. "Hm. Little bit." She took the photo and tucked securely into her dress.

Once they arrived at Irving Hall, Lucy was taken aback completely at the amount of people she saw. The theater was swarming with people their age, all newsies or friends and dates of newsies, all smiling, all chattering, all buzzing with excitement and energy. Sarah had not been joking when she said it would be a big evening and Jack had simply not done it justice. There was not a frown in sight, not for the half a block the crowd encompassed outside the theater waiting for the doors to open.

"Are these all from Manhattan? I didn't know you had so many boys," asked Lucy.

David shrugged simply and said, "Got me. I'm sure not all of them are."

Fortunately for the rest of them, Jack had an obvious, automatic jump to the front of the line that catapulted Lucy, David, and Sarah past the humming group of theater-goers. She felt very special, very important, and in an appallingly vain way, she was very grateful Sarah had spent so much time curling her hair.

"'Bout time, Cowboy, where ya been?" shouted Race from yards away. The group of boys surrounding him were the usual ones: Blink, Mush, Skittery, Crutchy, Specs, all of them and most with dates.

"Ah, blame it on the goils." He tightened Sarah close to him to prove he was only joking.

"No kiddin'," said Blink as soon as Lucy came into his line of vision. He gave her the once-over from a distance. Many times. He yelled, though she was oblivious to it, "How _you _doin' tonight, Luce!"

"Hey!" Jack smacked him in the back of the head. "What the hell's a matta with you, huh? I'm standin' right heah!"

"Hey, it was nothin'!" cowered Blink, raising his hands to block his face.

Skittery shoved him backward, shaking his head.

As Lucy approached them, smiling and confident, with David close at her side though he hardly spoke, she waved and noticed a few of them _did_ have strange appearances as Jack had promised. While some of them had loose, worn bandages around their arms or legs, plenty had scrapes and bruises. And yet they all smiled still, as if nothing had ever happened, as if the street war hardly affected them.

"Heya Sully, watch out fer this one tonight," joked Race, pointing behind him to Blink. "Little hopped up on all the fightin' been goin' on, he'll grab hold 'a anything tonight. And I do mean anything."

Lucy breathed a quick laugh, uncomfortably offended yet still amused. Jack glared at Race, who held up his hands in defeat. The front doors of the theater finally swung open, much to the delight of the newsies and others waiting outside anxiously. Jack led Sarah by the hand tightly as he made a beeline for the best seat in the audience, and David and Lucy followed. They took a seat at one of the closest tables to the stage.

Lucy took in the familiarity of the theater: the heavy, red velvet curtains, the elaborate stage, the looming stage lights that made whoever was on it completely shine. In her mind she could envision the ropes and wooden beams and structures behind the curtain where she and Jack would pass time between running around in the streets and eating their stolen food.

After a short while, she took notice of the others at her table, and it was only the same people she had been with the whole night. While Jack leaned back comfortably in his chair, Sarah facing him, orienting her body inches from his and flirting with the lines of appropriateness, Lucy placed her hands on the table and crossed her ankle over the other properly. She blinked a few times at the sight of her brother and her friend murmuring to each other, and as she drifted her gaze away she caught sight of David. He was just as stiff and awkward as she was.

"How's school, David? Any better?" she asked desperately.

He shrugged. "A little."

The brief, thoughtless answer reminded her of his ignoring her lately still. He was not bitter towards her, nor outwardly angry -- just silent and cold. She knew he would act this way on some level with the rest of the people they would be with, but she felt his coldness towards her was more than deliberate.

So Lucy sat at the table, glancing around her to avoid David and making small-talk with newsies who passed. She and Mush had a lengthy conversation about the purple border of flesh about his eye; he had gotten into a fist fight with one of Chase's boys the day after the gangs declared their rivalry. He obliterated the boy, he was quick to point out, and Lucy nodded as if she didn't even have to ask. Skittery, too, was sporting a fat lip -- his was fresh still, and he had made his story quite simple: the boy sucker-punched him in the face so he threw him into the trash of a nearby alley and beat the piss out of him.

"Jack, you don't think Chase'll pull anything tonight while we're here, do you?" asked David, interrupting some of the boys' war stories.

He shrugged. "Don't think so. Chase ain't stupid, he knows the bulls is still close by watchin' the place. I wouldn't let it worry ya."

"Yeah…"

"Relax, Davey. It's s'posed to be a fun night!"

Lucy couldn't help but laugh. Yet a quick, glaring glance from David made her stop. She looked down then, unable to hide her giggling smile. She couldn't help but smile about everything for the evening. It was all so cheerful and happy. She loved it. After everything she had been so worried about, she loved it.

She saw him in her mind then. She thought of Spot. Was he there, somewhere in the buzzing theater filled to the brim with awaiting guests?

Just then the velvet curtains flew open and the crowd erupted. The lights dimmed, giving the audience plenty of time to build up anticipation, and when they came back on, Medda stood posed with her back towards the audience in a pretty, theatrical stance. The boys in the audience whooped and hollered, and Lucy noticed Medda's shoulders collapse a little with chuckles.

"Hello again boys!" She called when she finally turned around.

As Lucy clapped, she felt so immersed in childhood memories she spent here, and Medda had not changed a single bit. She was still just as charming and beautiful as ever, her personality just as fiery as her red hair. The music started and the boys swarmed to the foot of the stage as she performed her first number. Lucy looked around and laughed at all the dejected-looking dates for the evening, and it was the second time she saw David smile that evening when Medda started singing and dancing.

Without really noticing or even trying, Lucy took her eyes off the stage for a moment to scan the crowd of dozens, looking for the one boy she had hoped to see. Apart from the newsies she knew, she recognized nobody. Maybe that was a good sign? Maybe the ones she didn't recognize were from Brooklyn?

The music stopped and the applause lasted a while before Medda began to speak.

"Oh, what a treat it is for me to have you fellas in my theater again! Let's just hope it all ends a better note this time around…!"

The crowd laughed and clapped and hissed and yelled all at the same time. Jack, though laughing, covered his hand over his eyes, embarrassed. Sarah gave him an encouraging hug.

"Oh, Jack, you know I love you still." She motioned to him, her hands dramatically clasped at her heart as she strolled towards the end of the stage near their table. "And way to kick the _World_'s you-know-what, huh?"

The audience applauded long and loud this time and Jack smiled proudly yet kept his eyes on Sarah, as though Sarah was his source of calm and peace that evening. Lucy patted him on the shoulder, laughing at this blushing face. Jack then, noticing and remembering Lucy's presence, sat up and shouted toward the stage, "Remembah this girl?"

"What was that?" Medda stuck her ear out, her hand cupped whimsically to the side of her face.

"Lucy!" shouted Jack.

She sank a little in her seat.

"_What?_"

"It's _Lucy!_"

"_Who?_"

Lucy, now with her cheeks burning, sank further into her chair and covered her eyes. Jack exaggeratedly motioned to his sister, defeated by the loudness of the boys. Lucy peeked through her fingers, but Jack grabbed her arm from her face and raised it high, pointing to her emphatically. Lucy felt herself start to tremble with nerves now.

"Oh!" Medda jumped back animatedly at the recognition. "Oh, _Lucy!_"

The boys in front of her and around her turned to exchange glances between Jack's little sister and the vibrant performer on stage, clapping loudly and encouragingly. Though at first she felt utterly silly being pointed out on such a grand scale, she started to absorb the attention.

"Lucy, come up here, let me get a look at you now!" called Medda.

Racetrack, appearing practically out of nowhere, grabbed Lucy by the arm and pulled her through the hoard of people. She felt a few more hands yank her towards the stage and they hoisted her up so that the only two people in the spotlight were herself and Medda.

"Oh my _goodness_, little Lucy Sullivan!" gushed Medda, wrapping her tightly in a hug. "She's sure grown up then, hasn't she, Jack!"

The boys whooped and cat-called, much to the awkward surprise of Lucy and the discomfort of Jack.

"Haha…Hey! Watch it!" he called, shifting quickly from lighthearted joviality to protectiveness.

Lucy rolled her eyes. Her gaze flew to David then, suddenly, and his face was completely different: Though he was not crawling to get on stage the way the others were and he wasn't sticking his fingers in his mouth to let out a whistle, he was smiling a subtle, genuine smile.

"You know what? I'm going to keep you on stage, if that's okay with your brother! And keep you as a volunteer! I'm going to show all of you a classic, fun, ballroom dance so that the girls in the room are treated to a better date next time around!"

There was a round of laughter.

"So, I'll need three more people on stage so Lucy here isn't dancing by herself! One girl and two boys!"

As Medda scoped out the audience of eager, waving hands, Lucy stood still and nervous on stage. She was smiling but her lips were trembling, her heart beating wildly as the glare of the stage lights blinded her. Her thoughts raced just as quickly as her pulse, making each one hard to read and her mind a fluttering frenzy of shaking images and sounds.

Another girl joined her onstage, and something about the sight of her made her feel a little sick inside, like her stomach could drop. Her hair was shockingly blonde, her eyes hidden behind thick, dark eyelashes, and she bounced up there without a care in the world, and the way she soaked up the spotlight made Lucy seem like she could be backed into a corner.

"Okay!" Medda turned and spoke theatrically, "Ladies…as custom for this dance, you're not to know who your partner is before the music starts. So, you'll need to turn around then…Turn, turn, turn…"

The girls followed suit and when her back was turned, she ever so subtly wiped the palms of her hands against her purple dress and gulped to wet her drying mouth. She stared at the unmoving velvet curtain and came back to her breath. She heard the crowd pick up again and snuck a glance behind her to see David being shoved encouragingly on stage.

Lucy whipped back around and laughed to herself. With her mind still going fast and her concentration on calming down, she did not pick up at all the mixture of applause and shouting from the crowd as the fourth member joined them. Had she been paying attention, she would have picked up on the nervous curiosity that rippled through the crowd.

"Okay! Now, I'm going to instruct you in a step-by-step fashion for this particular dance. So the music will start and on my cue, girls, you turn around and we'll go from there!"

Lucy took a final keep breath.

The music started, light and springy and jovial.

"On my count, ladies…One…Two…Three…Turn!"

Lucy spun around, her curls bouncing in a cascade behind her, and as though the lights had blinded her surroundings completely except for what stood before her, she was face to face with nobody else but Spot Conlon.

For a split moment there was no sound; no music, no clapping, no shouting. Just air. Clear, soundless, pure air.

Lucy could not control her reaction: she responded with sheer, nervous, off-the-charts delight, her eyes widening into shocked, incandescently happy semicircles, her lips spreading into an ecstatic grin.

"Evenin' babe."

He smiled her favorite crooked smile.

He pulled her in with his baby blue eyes.

Her heart pounded through her ribcage and she could not have been happier than she was in that moment. He was back and he was standing before her, ready to dance, ready to hold her.

His body was ever so slightly learning in towards hers, giving her the chills in the best way possible.

It was like they had met each other all over again, only this time it was like the whole world was watching.

A/N: Wouldn't it be interesting to see Lucy's reaction in real life? Priceless, haha.


	24. Vaudeville, Part Two

There were no words. There were no thoughts. Just emotion.

"Bettah wipe that smile off your face, princess," said Spot just above a whisper. "You'se gonna give yourself away."

Her lips were frozen in a smile. She could hardly twitch them to give a response. The words pinged in her mind, sending vibrations through her ears and to the excited nerves throughout the rest of her body. Her eyes were deadlocked with his, unmoving and unwilling to let go; her euphoric eyes matching those of his very own spellbinding and powerful gaze.

"On this next count!"

Streaming back into consciousness, Lucy shifted her gaze. She was onstage at Irving Hall. There were hundreds of pairs of eyes watching her for she was in the spotlight for the entire theater to watch.

"On this next count, gentlemen, you'll take your partner by the hand and waist and do a step like so…" Medda demonstrated and Spot finally broke his gaze away from Lucy to watch the performer. "And you'll do this in a sort of box step until I give the final count!"

There was an undeniable smirk overtaking Spot's face. Lucy actually felt her knees weaken -- she had always thought that was just an expression. As soon as Medda counted them off, Spot's hand was low at her waist and his other hand gripped hers, locking her shaking fingers. Lucy let herself melt right into Spot's lead.

"You've done this before," she said as he turned them around effortlessly to Medda's count.

"Perhaps." He winked. "You're shakin'."

"I'm nervous."

"Ya should be." He dropped his voice. "_Everyone's watchin us_."

Her expression cracked, the reality starting to seep in.

"Bundle 'a nerves again, Luce." He shook his head. "Relax. You'se in good hands."

She giggled and quickly pressed her lips together; she remembered Spot had said those exact words during the first dinner they had.

She looked down to try and fight his gaze, but when she could not help it, her eyes were fixated in his, for he was the only thing she wanted to see now. She could hardly blame the blinding, scorching stage lights for her obliviousness towards her surroundings -- this failure to maintain a cool and collected composure came directly from the fact that her turning around to see Spot was entirely unexpected yet thoroughly desired. As soon as she caught those eyes, she was gone.

"…Well done, well done!" came Medda's voice. "Now boys, take your partner's hand that you're holding now and give her nice a twirl…"

His fingers danced along hers as he let go of her only too briefly so that she spun around on her toes, her hair breezing around in her wake. She felt her knees wobble shakily and he instantly caught, and she straightened herself out -- those in the audience gave a low laugh at her clumsiness.

"…Now, repeat the steps I showed you before…"

As Lucy felt herself falling for him -- rather, plummeting -- again, she felt the familiar connection she had with him deepen with every step they so gracefully took.

"'Bout time I see you," he muttered so that only she could hear.

"Where the hell ya been? Seriously," she responded in a clenched smile, making certain that her façade had yet to crumble.

"Around."

Spot's face cracked a mischievous grin, and he suddenly slipped his hand dangerously low on her back, pulling her body towards his so that her chest barely grazed his as they moved around. There was a sustained, intrigued rumble from the crowd. Lucy clenched her jaw and dug her fingernails into his shoulder.

"Watch it, Spot," she warned, though her desire for him let her secretly enjoy it and her smile revealed that.

He gave a dirty laugh, smirking as widely as ever, his ego more inflated than she had ever seen. Had she been thinking rationally, she would have paid more attention to her surroundings rather than his eyes and his body. Had she been thinking rationally, she might have noticed the Manhattan boys periodically exchanging glances between herself dancing with Spot, and Jack who sat dangerously close to the stage, and she might have noticed her brother shifting uncomfortably in his chair with Sarah trying her hardest not to watch Lucy and Spot for it was just too much for her to take. Had she been thinking at all, she would have known to stop altogether and politely take herself out of the demonstration of the ballroom dance, saying she felt too dizzy and she needed some fresh air.

_But he's just so wonderful_, said the thoughts that swam around her swirling mind. He looked into her eyes and hummed to the music, as if singing to her made the dance onstage more intimate. She envisioned herself leaning her head against his shoulder, snuggling up to him and closing her eyes, but she fought against it. Instead, she said something one could only say when their mind is so wrapped up in the ecstasy of the moment, something one never thinks about before they say it:

"I think I'm falling a little bit in love with you."

Spot's face fell quickly and he stopped dancing. They stared at each other silently against his suddenly stiff form until Medda interrupted the moment.

"Excellent! Now, on this next count, you're going to switch partners…"

"Alright then…" he coughed. "Off ya go…"

He let go, with Lucy in a state of confusion, and passed her off into the arms of David. She felt her expression fall as David's hand slipped into hers and his loose, cold grip caused to her to fall back down to Earth. Going from her sudden bomb of a statement to now facing an obstacle she had yet to cross made her terrifyingly uneasy and she shook even harder. Suddenly she was painfully aware of herself and her eyes lost their glow when she looked at David. His face was chilling, just as his hands were.

"We'll start fresh from the beginning now!"

She felt herself crashing into reality faster now, her muscles tightening, her body stiffening in his grip. She couldn't take the glare in his eyes and she darted hers every which way -- the lights, the velvet curtains, the audience, the balcony, they all made her dizzy and unfocused. Neither of them said a word for the first moments they were dancing.

"Remember your first steps now, don't forget…"

Lucy straightened herself out as best as she could as she tried to look the ever most pleasant to be dancing with him in this demonstration. His face was unmoving, though. He was stoic and hard with his gaze sending shivers up her spine, and for the first time ever she felt truly scared of him.

"You're a pretty bad actress, Lucy."

"What?"

"The stage's definitely not for you."

"What're you talking about?"

He scoffed coldly. "Did you really think I didn't know?"

"Now, gentlemen, spin your partner around in a nice, little twirl!"

Lucy twirled uneasily in his tight, suffocating grip, tripping over her own feet. She felt her heart leap to her throat and choke her. She looked to her side, her face now etched with frantic worry, as she watched Spot and his new partner smiling and laughing intimately; he was holding onto her as tight as he had Lucy. And there was something in his smile that made her feel the harsh stab of jealousy.

"It's written all over your face, it's sickeningly obvious," hissed David.

She shot a glare back to him. "What the hell're you saying?"

He stomped on her shoe during their repeated stepping motion, crunching her toes mercilessly. "You know exactly what I'm saying, don't play dumb."

"Okay, now we're going to throw in some new dance moves!" called Medda.

The four volunteers on stage stopped. Lucy glared daggers into David's eyes and he stared just as menacingly back. Everything she felt was magnified tenfold with the microscope under which she was being watched, and deep in the back of her mind she knew she was unable to control it. So as she and David exchanged threatening looks, she knew on a completely subconscious level that everyone could feel the tension between them.

But every fiber in her being was exploding with anger and resentment and panic that she hardly noticed the audience at all.

Yet in the audience was Jack, who had been holding an expression of questions and suspicion for quite some time now, and Sarah who was avoiding the stage at all costs and was on the verge of exploding from the performance before them. Jack placed his arm on Sarah's shoulder and leaned in, murmuring to her words that were completely lost in the dizzying sounds of Irving Hall.

_Stay calm, stay calm, _Lucy repeated, though her blood was boiling. Her fingers twitched at her sides as the more she stared at David the stronger the desire was to lunge forward and slug him right in the face, right in the mouth for having told her that he had known all along about Spot and Lucy, and right in the eye for looking at her so coldly.

"Boys, we're going to repeat that sequence one more time, and at the end of the twirl, you're going to pick your partner up for a moment, spin her around, and set her back down again! On my count…"

Lucy's blind anger was so strong that when they came back together in a dancing position to repeat the original moves, she put a death grip between David's fingers. Just as well, it made her even more blind to the fact that the Manhattan boys were now studying the dramatic change in demeanor between Lucy and David and they were elbowing each other asking the same question. Jack was now tapping his leg beneath the table nervously, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He was visibly distraught. Sarah was trying to distance herself from the table.

"Hurting me won't change what you've done," said David in response to her tightened grasp.

_"Stop_," she pleaded coldly through gritted teeth. She knew he was right, far back in her mind she knew it all too well. "_Just stop talking_."

David, thrown off by her continued denial and viciousness towards him, looked down at his feet. Once Lucy saw this subtle act of retreat, her eyes changed ever so slightly. The intensity began to wane and when David looked back up at her, his face had taken on a new emotion: hurt.

Lucy felt her façade starting to crumble as he lifted her at the waist and twirled her around, just as Medda had instructed, and their gazes, so honest and terrified, remained fixed on each other.

"…And switch partners one more time!"  
They stopped moving but Lucy's hand was still on David's shoulder, almost as if she did not want to let go yet, for the expression on David's weakened face shook Lucy to her very core. His jaw was locked and he looked away as he grabbed her hand and passed her to the other boy on stage.

Spot said nothing when they were together again dancing along to the music he had hummed to her a few minutes ago. _I think I'm falling a little bit in love with you. _The words sank to the bottom of her stomach and she felt humiliated for having said them.

"Lucy. Relax. I'm _beggin'_ you," he said.

She looked back up to see his face annoyed. She noticed that he was actually angry with her. She furrowed her eyes at him, offended and pissed off. He looked at her seriously without any words and she was just as quiet. They danced now from memory and in silence until the music finally stopped and their dance was finally over.

"Excellent, excellent job! All of you!" cheered Medda, opening her arms wide and using them to showcase the people who had provided the night's entertainment.

The four of them clapped to themselves, bowed, curtsied, smiled, waved to the audience members. Lucy put on a smile for the crowd and made her way off the stage. She took the steps closer the curtains, not wanting to be carried down by the Manhattan boys or be escorted by David. Alone, she walked offstage shaking and catching her breath into a mess of people she did not recognize. They patted her on the back, telling her she did well and she smiled innocently.

As she caught sight of their table from a small distance, she noticed Jack leap up with a start and he was shoving his way through the audience now in her direction. Lucy panicked at once and worked her way into a different direction. While watching behind her so that she could lose Jack, she came upon a part in the crowd and from nearly twenty feet away were the Brooklyn boys.

She stopped in her tracks and tried not to vomit at the sight: Spot, surrounded by his usual loyal dogs, was sitting at his table with the blonde girl that had been on stage with them. She was sitting on his lap, her arm snaked around his neck, her lips giggling against his cheek. His face was almost attached they were so close, and while one hand was running up and down her legs, the other was running through her wavy, golden locks, and he was looking at her hair in the desirable way he always had with Lucy.

The tears were immediate -- they were coming no matter how much Lucy fought them. Her lip started to quiver uncontrollably and she even heard her teeth chattering. She buried her face in her hands and walked in a dizzy circle, unsure where to go, until she remembered Jack was probably on her trail. So she straightened up and stomped in the direction of Spot's table. As she breezed past him, she shoved his shoulder so hard the girl on his lap was almost knocked to the floor and he looked back at once. She glanced behind her and nodded for him to follow and he got up silently to do so.

The fury within Lucy was building so much that she feared for herself how it would all climax. Fists clenched hard at her sides, she made her way down an empty hallway and into a dark closet. She paced around the tiny area and as soon as Spot stepped inside and shut the door, she smacked him across the face so hard that her palm stung like needles in her flesh.

"_What the fuck!_"He stumbled backward and grabbed at his cheek.

"Don't 'What the fuck' me, Spot, what the fuck were you doing?!"

She hit his shoulders back against the wall.

"Stop fuckin' hittin' me!"

But Lucy didn't stop. It was dark and she was already blinded by her own anger that she just kept hitting and punching and slapping him, and even through his curses and orders for her to stop, she couldn't. Her hair fell in her face and her cheeks were wet with tears and he was blocking her punches but she kept at it, losing more and more control over her emotions.

He eventually grabbed hold of her wrists and gripped them so hard Lucy thought they might snap in his grasp and her skin felt scorched from his flesh burning against hers, her bones practically crunching.

"Stop, Lucy…_Stop_."

But she wriggled out somehow and managed to smack him upside the head, his hat falling to the ground. He waited a second then grabbed her shoulders and walked her backward so that her back thudded hard against the wall, her shoulder blades throbbing in pain. She writhed angrily in his hold despite his obvious power over her, so he shoved her once more and her head slammed painfully against the wooden surface. She closed her eyes and watched the flashing colors fizzle out at the impact.

Stopped and now petrified, Lucy tensed up through her body, her jaw clenched and eyes squeezed shut with hot tears. She felt the beat of one of their hearts within his palms bracing her, his fingers digging into her skin she swore she'd start bleeding.

"Get off me," she growled.

"Are you gonna hit me?" His commanding tone was frightening and for the first time she understood the reputation he had, for one word in that voice sent an icy chill up her spine. "Do it. Hit me."

Without answering she violently shook his hands away from her arms and he finally backed up. It was pitch black in the small closet and Lucy was thankful, for her face was so screwed up into twisted agony that she could hardly control what it looked like. Tears were running down her cheeks but she managed to keep her sobs in check.

"What is this?" he asked.

She sniffled and rubbed the back of her raw, trembling hands against her cheeks to dry them. "You tell me."

He was quiet for he had no proper answer and he shifted his stance audibly. "Did you think I woulda been able to sit with you? In front 'a everyone, in front 'a your brother? _Please_."

"Well, ya didn't have to _fuck_ that girl right in front 'a me!"

"I didn't know you was -- "

"Is she why you haven't seen me in so long? Is she your -- your reason, your explanation of when you say you've been _around?_ _Huh? _Answer me!"

"What the hell d'you expect me to say, Lucy?"

"That you're wrong for bringin' her here! That you wouldn't do that to me! That you --"

"That I love you too? You knew this -- you knew you an' me -- what we was doin' wasn't about love --"

"_Shut up! Just shut up!_"She stepped forward again at his words and shoved him once more. "Fuck you! I never wanna see you again, go to hell!"

He retaliated by pushing her against the wall again forcefully, pinning her so that she had no control, so that she was submissive and victim to him, and her back hit the wall even harder than before.

"Get off 'a me!"

She stretched her arms as far as his grip would allow, her fists crumbling against his chest. His right arm stretched across her chest, preventing her arms from moving. His left hand cupped tightly over her mouth. Lucy felt the lump in her throat become outrageously present as she stopped fighting and submitted. Though they could see nothing in the dark, she could feel him staring directly into her eyes and she stared right back.

_How did it come to this?_

Spot lifted his hand from her mouth and she was silent. She could feel his breath against her own, still intoxicating to her even in this moment. His arm slid across her collarbone and his hands slithered slowly down to grip her waist. Still pinned, his chest leaned into hers so hard she was unable to move, unable to breathe. She managed to snake her hands up to his chest and dug her fingernails angrily into his clothed skin. His forehead tilted against hers, her head locking into place.

She could taste how close he was. She still wanted him.

_Get out._

But he pressed his lips against hers and she didn't fight back. She kissed him hungrily as if the week they were apart had pent up all their energy and frustration and lust that it was merely seconds before Lucy yanked down his suspenders and ripped open his shirt, Spot pinning kisses to her cheek and down her neck. Her hands made their way to the button of his pants and she wrenched down the zipper. He lifted her legs to wrap them around his waist, the bottom of her dress sliding from her knees to her hips, and she was still unable to move her chest and torso as he pressed his body further into her.

Her brain hazily flashed the images of the stars she saw the first night they had had sex on the rooftop, but there were no stars in this room. There was no light at all.

And all the while the only thing she could feel was how much she hated him. It was probably why it felt so good, so much better than any other time at all, for as her back repeatedly hit against the wall the more he pressed himself into her, the more the tears gushed out her eyes and her hands clawed at his back. Because every fiber in her being needed him to stop but she couldn't make him and she didn't want to.

At the end, they were frozen together for moments. Lucy buried her face into his shoulder. Neither of them spoke. She unsteadily unlocked from his waist, let her dress fall back down, and came back to the ground. His body still propped up against hers, she had no chance of getting away. She felt his breath on her neck as she turned her head and he zipped up his pants. Her arms uncurled from his neck and slid down his burning hot skin and rested at his waist.

"I don't love you, Spot," she murmured, so low it was barely audible.

He breathed a few times and slid his forceful hands from her waist to her back. "I know."

"I hate you."

His fingertips tightened their hold. "I know."

Suddenly there was a round of knocks at the door -- fast, angry knocks -- and both of their bodies jumped out of their skin. Instinctively -- and Lucy confused her own self by doing so -- she pulled Spot's body closer to her and hid her face. His hands wrenched from her back to her waist again in a quick motion as he snapped his neck backward. Just before he lunged to keep themselves dark and secret, a blinding light broke into the closet and had Lucy not shut her eyes so tight, she would have seen the look of horror and fury upon her brother's face as his little sister stood trapped and defenseless between the wall and Spot Conlon.

"_What the fuck is this?!_"

* * *

**A/N:** Oh shit!


	25. Break on Through

_It's a high. When the body reaches a certain level of pain, an altered state of mind takes over. You are in trance. After being put through so much pain, there exists a surge of endorphins as the body reacts to the fight-or-flight mode it was in while enduring the pain. Lucy Sullivan had trained herself for this kind of situation. She saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing but a breeze in her mind. A perfect day in a perfect place, and she was free to do as she pleased._

"Lucy!"

But there was no high this time. She was still in pain.

Her eyes were closed with her arms covering her face and she was buried between Spot and the wall of a closet that had been exposed so swiftly she was thrown into shock. She suddenly felt the suffocation break. She felt the air swirl around her and the absence of Spot's constricting embrace on her body as she opened her eyes to light flooding the room.

Jack had grabbed Spot's shoulder, spun him around and threw him into the closet wall by his collar. Lucy refused to watch as Jack knocked him into oblivion. Sarah suddenly appeared and grabbed Lucy's arm.

"Get up!" she urged.

Lucy let Sarah pull her through the closet door, all the while Jack's angry fists colliding with Spot's face and his words echoing in her ears.

_"I'll kill you, Spot, swear to God!"_

_"Get off me, Kelly, it ain't --"_

_"Shut the fuck up!"_

She followed Sarah down the hall towards the exit. She glanced back to find several Manhattan and Brooklyn boys rushing from the stage to the cramped, dark hallway to see why Jack had gotten up from his chair in such an angry way, why Sarah had frantically run after him, and what exactly had been going on in the closet.

Sarah opened the door and they were outside in an alleyway. Lucy crumbled, speechless, using the brick wall as leverage. She doubled over and placed her hands on her knees, and angry sobs started choking her breath. _What have I done, what have I done?_

Sarah stood a foot away looking down at Lucy, her arms folded over her chest. Her posture was stiff and it was like her arms across her stomach were holding in her nerves, for her anxiety was skyrocketing at that moment. Her lips were locked together and trembling; there was nothing she wanted to say to Lucy, no words of comfort, no plans for getting out of trouble.

All Lucy could think of was how so very quickly she had gone from ecstasy to pain in such a short amount of time. The foreboding glimpses of what she could expect to come of this new predicament were unnerving. She could hear in her mind Jack's clenched fist wailing into Spot's jaw, cheek, eye, and mouth, but she could not see it because she had been too much of a coward to watch it take place.

That's exactly what she was: a coward.

_Get up_, thought Lucy's inner calm; it had not been active lately with bringing back her common sense and self-esteem. _Stand up_.

She weakly crawled up the wall to a standing position. She raised her arms to look at her wrists in the glow of the streetlights. They were bright red against her fair, raw skin and they were throbbing in waves of pain -- physical evidence of Spot's hands on her. They were inexplicable in every sense of the word: Lucy had always reassured herself that Spot would never hurt her and she had whistled the same tune with Sarah, so giving reason to these new bruises was next to impossible. And she knew on some level she would get hurt from this relationship as soon as it started to go south -- she just never thought the wounds would be on display for everyone to see.

"Oh my God…" responded Sarah, deeply concerned. She gently took hold of Lucy's wrists and shook her head speechlessly. She looked at Lucy's weak face: there was a painful combination of purple and red bruises around her mouth and jaw. Sarah swallowed a lump in her throat. "Lucy, what on Earth…"

Before she could respond, the door to the alleyway burst open again and tumbling out was a group of shouting, angry boys with Jack and Spot at the middle of it all. Sarah and Lucy jumped backwards. Jack was still throwing a round of punches to Spot's face and when he shoved him against the alley wall, Lucy felt sick with fear that Jack would actually kill him. She moved her way through the small crowd at once. Sarah reached for her to hold her back but Lucy shook her off.

"Jack! Stop it!" she screamed.

"Ya coward!" came Jack's voice. "Who the hell d'ya think you are!"

"Fuck you, Jack!"

In an instant Spot raised his elbow and crashed it into Jack's cheek. The boys cringed audibly and Jack spun around stumbling, failing to catch himself and he thudded to the ground.

The on-lookers, cheering and shouting in an animalistic way, strained themselves to keep from joining. Nobody touched the Brooklyn leader -- he himself knew he was a force to be reckoned with whenever he was challenged, so everyone else engaged in the fight by loud remarks and barking cries.

In the middle of the circle, Spot lunged forward and pulled the Manhattan boy up from the ground by his red handkerchief and knocked him in the jaw effortlessly. The Manhattan boys winced and bent down to help Jack to his feet. He got up as soon as Spot gave him a gentleman's shot to fight back. They stepped around the circle, facing each other with fists raised high, the adrenaline reverberating between both of them.

Lucy yanked her way forward. She took a moment to force herself to catch the scene: her brother and her lover, ready to rip each other to shreds. Just as Jack was going back for another punch, Lucy lunged forward and jumped in front of Spot, creating a weak barrier between him and Jack. She held up her hands with pleading eyes and said shakily, "Stop."

"What -- Lucy, get outta heah!" He gripped her shoulders and moved her out of the way, moving to toss her over to Racetrack for safety. But she fought back and stood her ground between Brooklyn and Manhattan.

"No! Jack, it's not what you think!" she squeaked.

He stopped and looked at her, puzzled. David pushed past all the boys around them and ended up close to the scene. Slowly but surely the crowd's yelling simmered.

Jack stared before him. Lucy and Spot, both short of breath and shaking, stared right back.

"What're you talkin' about?" demanded Jack.

"Spot wasn't…" Lucy looked behind her for encouragement but found Spot's clenched face staring into Jack's with more malice than she knew him to possess. "We were…"

She noticed from the corners of her eyes the stunned faces of those who had sorted it out around her, but the only face she was concerned with was Jack's.

"I don't understand, he was attackin' you in the closet, I watched him follow you there, what the hell're you talkin' about?"

Lucy's head shook. "He wasn't attacking me."

"You expect me to believe that? From _him_? Lucy, he had you against the fuckin' wall, his hands were all ovah you!"

She felt the lump in her throat trying to work against her. She repeated in a voice just above a whisper, "He wasn't attacking me…"

The boys around them all started darting their glances towards one another now. They all got it. They understood perfectly well: Spot Conlon was screwing Jack Kelly's little sister behind his back. The only person who didn't get it, who refused to get it, was Jack.

"No, no, no…" He paced in a circle. "Don't try to defend this son of a bitch, he ain't gonna hurt you no more, I'm gonna set him straight!" He shifted to glare at Spot.

"Do it, then, Kelly, I _want_ ya to!" challenged Spot in a malicious voice.

He started to advance towards Jack. But Lucy, with all her strength, pushed Spot back against the wall so that his head knocked against the brick. She turned around and pinned him their with her back. A brief snicker rippled through the crowd at this girl's defiance over Spot.

"Jack, please, just walk away," begged Lucy desperately.

"He -- _cannot_ -- attack you! He doesn't _fucking_ get it and I'm gonna make him get it!" He again started towards Spot and Lucy grabbed his shoulders.

Both Spot and Jack kept trying to grab at each other to tear the other to shreds but Lucy remained between, pushing her brother back with all her force. The crowd started to slowly rumble again, transfixed on the struggle before them. In desperation, because Lucy's attempt at strength was starting to wane, she shouted:

_"Spot didn't attack me, I told him to follow me into the closet!"_

That stopped Jack cold. He jumped back in shock.

"It _wasn't_ an attack! _Listen _to me before I have to _spell _it out for you!" She panted nervously, her fingers scratching each other at her sides.

When it all came together -- when he finally allowed himself to believe it -- it was easy to see Jack suddenly understood. Lucy watched the change in his face and she moved backward cowardly. Spot's fingers curled around her hip possessively. Lucy felt the silence in her mind as she looked at her brother's face, the expression on which made her wish she was blind.

The crowd was buzzing again and their gazes flickered between the three of them. It was now easy to point out, too, who the Manhattan boys and the Brooklyn boys were. As if instinctively recognizing the call to active rivalry, they were steadily securing their clenched jaws and cracking their knuckles. In those moments of vulnerable clarity, nothing would ever be the same between the two infamous territories because Spot had struck far too close to Jack's heart -- during a time of alliance among their Burroughs -- to ever be willing to negotiate and accept what had happened.

It only took this moment for Lucy's world to change drastically into something she now loathed and regretted.

Jack clenched his fists and raised them to his face, burying himself in them as he strained to keep control and he paced around angrily. Lucy's heart beat madly and suddenly she was aware of David's presence; she looked at him, for he had been watching only her all along. He flicked his eyes to Jack and he stepped towards him.

"Jack, don't --"

"You knew too, didn't ya, Dave?" he suddenly yelled.

David turned his head and stepped back paces, holding up his hands as Jack advanced towards him. "I had my suspicions, I didn't know until --"

"Until tonight like the rest of us! When you was up there with her --"

"Yes."

"Until _you _was puttin' your hands all ovah her on stage!" He turned, and pointing to Spot he stomped towards him.

Lucy stepped forward and pushed him backwards again. He shoved her arms away quickly.

"No, don't you touch me! You been lyin' to me, to _everyone_ all along! Sneakin' around behind my back, all those times ya been 'sick,' the hickeys, the fight with Sarah last week…" The thought burst into clarity as well and he got even more angry. "Sarah! Sarah knew too! Jesus! What the hell's goin' on, did any one 'a you bastards know too?!" He whipped around and motioned to the newsies.

They all backed up, fearful of Jack's temper, and shook their heads.

"Jack, we had no idea," said Racetrack, turning to glare at Lucy.

"Yeah, honest, no clue at all," added Blink.

Lucy turned her head to escape the betrayed looks on all of their faces. They were filled with judgment and absolute disgust.

Jack turned back around. He glared at Lucy and shifted his hatred to Spot, who had been staring directly back at him the entire time, unafraid and challenging. Jack shook his head quickly and started towards Spot again.

"_Don't!_"

Spot suddenly shoved Lucy to the side and met Jack halfway, sending his fist up beneath his jaw and the Manhattan leader fell backwards. Spot went to deliver more blows but Mush and Racetrack stopped him by pushing him backwards and tackling him to the ground.

Lucy was pushed out of the mix as all of the Manhattan and Brooklyn boys broke out into a fight with each other. Before getting thrown out altogether, she crouched down to the place where Spot's hat had fallen, picked it up, and shoved it into her dress. Then she made her way out of the crowd and onto the street to see the rest of Irving Hall exiting the theater to watch the brawl in the cramped, tiny alleyway. Giving up and giving in to the coward she knew she was, she started running down the street. She suddenly saw police officers on horses with bats and whistles bounding toward the scene, and the mass of newsies and people scattered like mice.

Lucy skidded to a stop, sliding to the ground and scrambling to get back up. She took shelter down another empty alley. She crouched behind a structure of crate boxes, alone. Boys who had escaped the police rushed past the alley and some of them scurried into it, breezing past her.

_"See that one comin', Ace?"_

_"I kinda figgered since it was Spot!"_

Lucy scoffed and shook her balled up fists. She stood up and looked around, knowing she couldn't follow those running down the alley nor run out into the streets. She made a split second decision and eyed a street corner across the way she could take in order to get to her own apartment.

Just as she started to make a break for it, someone scooped her up into his arms and yanked her in his hold down the alley. She got back to her own footing to realize her savior was, of all people, David Jacobs. She said nothing but felt more grateful than she ever had in her life as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her further away from the mess she had caused at Irving Hall.


	26. Crash Into Me

David was going against his better judgment by saving Lucy after the police came to break up the fight outside Irving Hall. Lucy knew this. She knew he would face far more than the cold shoulder from Jack and the rest of the newsies by helping her. She just couldn't figure out why the most logical of all the boys would compromise his relationships with them for the one girl who uprooted a rivalry between the two most powerful territories in New York.

"One more block…" panted David, pulling Lucy along by the arm who had been straggling now for three blocks. She had wanted to stop and take a breather for a while yet every time she looked up, she was reminded that David was risking his neck for her. She pushed her legs further into the street.

It was nearing ten o'clock and the streets were still buzzing to celebrate the end of a work week, but the route they had chosen to take was filled with back alleys and grunge areas in which lurked none but the homeless, drunks, or street kids. Specifically, they had entered Chase's gang turf, and both of them had forgotten this fact as soon as they hopped a fence and into a large space behind a restaurant.

"C'mon, almost there…" David held Lucy's waist as she jumped down from the tall, wooden fence and splashed into a puddle of murky, dank water. When suddenly she saw a small group of boys sitting in a mix of trash and wooden crates against a building perking up curiously at their intrusion, she gasped to herself and grabbed David's arms. The figures, Lucy assumed, had gone unnoticed by David's hasty escape plans.

"Well, well, well, if it ain't the Walkin' Mouth."

David's head snapped to the voice's direction. He moved Lucy behind him protectively.

"Evenin', Chase," responded David, surprisingly calm yet still clearly guarded.

Lucy gulped, wincing at the recognition.

"Ain't you s'posed to be at your little slumber party ovah at Medda's tonight?"

Lucy peeked out from behind David. The four boys were starting to advance towards them as if they were predators narrowing in on their prey. Chase stood out immediately -- his broad shoulders and shaved head were unmistakably characteristic and still visibly intimidating. Lucy's lip quivered and she grabbed David's shirt in fear.

"We're just passing through, fellas, it was an honest mistake," spoke David. He held up his hand to show no offense.

Chase threw his head back and mocked, "'_Just passin' through, fellas, it was an honest mistake.' _Bullshit, Jacobs, ya know this is my territory. Tell me what you'se doin' heah, Kelly send ya to give me some kinda message?"

"No message, Chase. We shouldn't've come this way, we'll just get out of here, alright?"

"We?"

Lucy tightened her hold on David and winced. Chase moved towards them curiously, his head cocking to the side as he tried to make out the other person present in the darkness. David moved his arms so that he was gripping hers incredibly hard, yet in an incredibly protective way that made her feel safe, not pain the way she had felt with Spot.

"Chase, don't --"

The opposing leader stuck out a crooked walking stalk in Lucy's direction, poking into her side and running along her hair. She cringed and frantically swatted it away with her arm, for the feeling of this cane-like -- arguably phallic -- object sent shivers of absolute hatred through her whole body.

"Davey's got hisself a dame, fellas!"

"Chase, back up, I'm not kidding," warned David angrily through gritted teeth.

"Let's have a good look at 'er, huh?" He swiftly lunged forward and grabbed Lucy by the arm, yanking her from David's secure arms and pulling her close to his body. One of Chase's minions was quick to keep her there, too: they came up behind David to snake his arms beneath his and lock them behind his neck.

Lucy kept the lump in her throat down as she stared maliciously into the face of the opposition. Another boy walked towards them and held up a small lamp allowing Chase to see her up close. With this, his expression shifted from perverse curiosity to pleasant surprise.

"Fellas, ya know who we got heah?" he called out with a disgusting smile. Lucy could feel his hot breath on her face and she wanted to vomit all over him; and in the dim glow of the light, she noticed his eyes were exactly the same icy, silver shade as Spot's. She started to angrily writhe in his arms, failing to set herself free.

"Who's that, boss?"

"Why, we gots Jack Kelly's baby sistah all to our own!" He laughed sickeningly as Lucy could read the nasty thoughts starting to swirl around in his head.

"No kiddin'!"

"Gotta see this, I heah she's a real lookah!"

"Ain't she the one startin' all this mess in the foist place?"

The few boys remaining quickly flocked to the victimized object of lust in Chase's arms. They ran their grubby hands over her arms and legs, felt out the tangles of curls in her hair, and even pressed their lips against her face a couple of times. A burning hot hatred scorched through Lucy's being as she tried harder than ever to break free, and the thought came to her that she never wanted to be touched or sought after by any man for a _very_ long time after this.

"Let her go, Chase!" shouted David.

He laughed. "Are ya kiddin'? This is the best thing I got my hands on all week!"

Just then, as Lucy had begun kicking her feet against Chase's legs, a couple of runts appeared out of nowhere and in excited voices they screeched, "Boss, boss! There's a fight ovah at Irving Hall!"

All gazes flickered in the messenger's direction.

"Yeah, yeah, I saw it! Brooklyn 'n Manhattan are goin' at it like crazy!"

"Jack Kelly's promisin' to knock Spot Conlon's lights out and kill 'im an' everything!"

"What for?" asked Chase, stunned.

"Brooklyn and Manhattan, ain't they allies in all 'a this, boss?" asked one of the boys.

"No shit, dumbass, like you forget who we'se fightin', " retorted Chase. He looked back at Lucy and paused, running his eyes over the rest of her body. The boys around her started to back away, eager to catch the fight, as their leader thought. He grinned before saying to the group, "Boys, go out and see which one 'a those guys we can get rid of tonight. They obviously ain't expectin' us to drop by…"

The boys disgustedly applauded their leader's decision by laughing maniacally and collecting various objects that could do plenty of physical harm. Lucy pressed her lips together as the thoughts of them being used against the newsies invaded her mind.

"What about them, boss?" one of the boys asked, motioning to Lucy and David.

"You go out an' have a good time…I'll take care of our guests."

Lucy furiously tried keeping her cold, hard expression steady and even. As the rest of Chase's boys scurried about excitedly to prepare for an upcoming brawl, Chase adjusted his hold on Lucy and lifted her feet from the ground, tightening his grip by securing his arms around her back.

"Have a good time sweetheart!" one of the boys called as they all left to run towards the theater.

Chase swayed back and forth in a gross attempt at dancing and hiked her up further in his arms.

"David!" she called desperately, though she knew he could do very little.

"Put her down, Chase, I swear to God, just let her go!" The boy still holding on to David tightened a warning grasp.

"Ah, don' worry, Davey, you'll get your chance with her soon! Wanna go for a spin, darlin'? Yeah? Little dance?" In a totally spineless way, Chase twirled her around, bouncing jovially and creating his own perverse tune in a mocking tone of voice.

The parallel between dancing onstage with Spot and Chase's own dance filled Lucy with more rage than she knew herself to even possess, and rather than get upset and cry over her own pathetic predicament, she did something about it. She envisioned Spot smiling at her as they had danced on stage, his possessive and strong arms covering her mouth and preventing her from speaking in the closet, and his eyes -- those chilling eyes that so uncannily resembled Chase's…

"C'mon now, everyone likes a little dance party…"

Lucy became aware of her body. She could feel where her legs were situated. And she realized exactly how to hit him where it hurt, and when she came upon this brilliant discovery, she felt a rush of excitement trickle into her system.

"You ain't dancin', Lucy, I can't feel ya -- _FUCK!_"

Lucy had raised her leg and sent her knee crashing hard into the weakest part of a man: the groin.

Chase recoiled his entire body and dropped her at once. Lucy took a moment to watch his pathetic form slowly weaken, second by second, until he was on his back with his legs pulled towards his stomach.

David's captor couldn't help but drop his jaw at the sight, and David too was stunned, his eyes big and his mouth unhinged.

Lucy shook her head looking down at Chase, who panted in brutal agony. "Don't you fucking touch me _ever _again."

She whipped around. Chase's boy set David free immediately upon Lucy's icy stare and held his hands up, surrendering. David couldn't help but smile nervously with his eyes still huge. Lucy grabbed David's wrist and they tore off down the street.

They did not stop running until they were safe inside Lucy's room. She thought back to the list of ways Jack had given her to secure herself from any intruders. They had locked the door, positioned a chair beneath the handle, and barricaded the window. In the darkness she struck a match and positioned the kerosene lamp in the middle of the room. She sat down on the floor cross-legged, and as she stared hypnotically into the orange glow, she came back to her breath and felt the exhaustion of the night starting to takes its toll.

David took a seat across from her, leaning against her dresser with his legs outstretched. His eyes furrowed as he watched the roller coaster of emotions in Lucy's face.

_This is by far the worst night of my life_, thought Lucy.

The flame flickered every once in a while as she ran through the course of events, each one getting worse and worse in their own respect: she had given her own self away by her inability to control emotions onstage; she had led Spot into a secluded closet where she proceeded to try and pick a fight with the best fighter in New York and came out a loser; she had gotten caught right in the act by no one else but her own brother; and she had gotten grossly assaulted by the enemy of all enemies for the Manhattan newsies, in the midst of them acting upon the street war.

The weight of it all was pressing into her chest. She placed her hand over her lungs and bowed her head.

"Wait…" said David, and Lucy looked up, having forgotten he was still there.

"What?"

He scooted forward, examining Lucy's face with concern. He raised her hand and placed it on either side of her jaw, eyeing the small bruises. "Is that from --"

"David…" sighed Lucy angrily, and she hit his hand away and shifted in her seat. She pulled her legs in and buried her face into her knees. _I don't wanna talk about this right now._

"Lucy, those are from Spot, aren't they?"

She wrapped her arms around her legs and closed her eyes, shaking her head in the slightest way even though there was no point in denying it. Yet for David to strike her at this point in time, the worst time imaginable, made her hate him a tiny bit.

"Aren't they?" he repeated in a demanding voice.

"What the hell d'you want me to say, huh?" Her arms went wide as if she had given up and was now exposing her secrets. "Yeah. They're from Spot. Is that what you wanna hear? 'Cause I can't find any other way around that one, and I know if I tell you that it's never, _ever_, been like this before, you won't believe me. So go ahead, go on and tell me everyone was right, everyone was right about Spot Conlon and his infamous reputation, and I'm just the stupid bitch who happened to be the only one he ever lay a hand on like that --"

"You're not the only one, Lucy, he's obviously acted like this before with other girls --"

"Right, I'm just the _one_ person he's not supposed to touch, then. Right? Ain't that right, Dave? _No_ one's allowed to talk to me, look at me the wrong way, let alone touch me, just 'cause 'a my older brother, right? That what you're sayin'?"

"Well, Jesus Christ, Lucy, you wanna put yourself out there like that, by my guest! God forbid you have an older brother who wants to protect you and make sure no one hurts you. Damn! Ya know, he's not trying to make your life miserable but you spat on his trust the second you started lusting after that guy --"

"_Lusting _after him, what the hell kinda thing is that to say, David? You don't know a goddamn thing about me an' Spot --"

"_I know Spot! _More so than you! I know what he's like! And I don't need to go screwin' around with him to figure that out! And you know what else? I don't need to ask you a single question to know the way he looks at you is the same way he looks at every other skank in New York --"

"Oh, thank you, David, that makes me feel real special comparin' me to the trash that walks around him like some kinda god or somethin' --"

"Oh, no, Lucy, you're not trash. No, no, no, you're right. You're special. You're a _Sullivan_. You're Jack's sister. That just makes you extra special and the pay-off's that much greater in the end!"

Lucy had no response for that one. She stared up at David speechlessly as he continued.

"It doesn't take a dumbass -- and especially someone like Spot Conlon -- to realize screwin' you was the best way to screw over your brother!"

She gulped down a lump in her throat but she held her ground. "And why would he wanna do that, huh?"

David exaggerated a slow, animated shrug with a twisted face. "Because! That's who he is! Because Spot's an asshole! Because he can get away with it! He's a manipulative, conniving jackass with a god complex who needs everyone to know he's on top and the best all the time! Jesus, Lucy, the only reason he went after you was to show everyone else that he can stick it to Jack Kelly and prove he's still the unstoppable, unbeatable, most feared newsie in all of New York! You meant _nothing_ to him."

Lucy was frozen. Her eyes had welled up with tears upon his last, brutally honest statement. The most pathetic part was that every bit of David's speech was the truth and she knew that, for it had all played out like that that evening.

She quickly uncrossed her arms, uncrossed her legs and jumped to her feet. Without another word, leaving the conversation dangling with those stinging, harsh words, Lucy took away the chair from the door and unlocked it.

"Lucy, c'mon, you know I --"

"Please leave," she interrupted stiffly. "Thanks for helpin' me back home and you've said what you wanted to say but you're gonna have to leave now."

David started towards the door, shaking his head and scoffing. "Gonna wait up an' see if he stops by? Give you some more bruises?"

Lucy shoved David out of the doorway and slammed it shut immediately. Rather than bolt it up again with the chair, she leaned her back against the splintered wood and slid all the way down. She sat in an angry, shaking ball, all tight and stiff as her lips pursed and in her mind she kept thinking how much of an asshole David had been. How rude of him to say those things. How dare he speak the truth so quickly. She shook her head and yanked her shoes from her feet, chucking them towards the wall. She lay down on the ground and held her burning face in her hands.

_He's right, _her conscience thought. She grunted and shook her head for she was unable to confront how out of line she had just been in picking a fight with him.

Slowly but surely the anger started to wane. Her fingers stopped scratching each other and digging furiously into her scalp. David had been out of her apartment for a while now and when she lifted her head she took a deep breath.

_Calm._

As she centered herself, she started to feel the exhaustion come rushing back to her. She sniffled but held her head up high, refusing to shed any more tears than she already had that evening. She eyed her bed from a few feet away. Innately she knew she would not go near it, nor sleep in it for quite some time. Too many things with a certain someone had taken place in that bed.

So she took a deep breath and let her chest rise and fall from the floor. She fixed her gaze on the simmering orange fire from the lamp, and she felt more tired than ever. As she drifted off to uneasy sleep, the last thought she could concentrate on was how after all of it was over, after all the secrets she kept in order to keep someone in her company, in her arms, in her bed, and in her mind, after all of it exploded the way it had that evening, she was more alone than she had ever been in her whole life. And it had crashed into her in merely a couple of exploding, heartstopping moments.

* * *

**A/N: **I would have made this chapter a shorter one without Chase, but could not deny Lucy the chance at kicking Chase in the groin 0:) I hope you think so as well, for this and the next chapter are my favorites of the whole story.


	27. Little Ashes

I am here. I am alive.

I am…numb.

_"You ain't gonna jump, are ya?"_

_Lucy suddenly went flying backward. "JESUS CHRIST!"_

_He let out a quiet laugh._

_"Ya alright there?" he asked._

_"NO," she huffed between breaths. "I mean, yeah, I mean…Who are you?"_

_"Obviously a saint, I just saved yer life."_

And yet, where was he now? If he had been such a saint…where was he now?

Lucy rolled onto her back. She had remained on the floor of her apartment for the entire night watching the flame from the kerosene lamp die down and letting her restless thoughts send her into a slumber of tossing and turning caught between sleeping and a toiling mind. Towards the earliest hours of daylight she had woken up and the first person to come to her mind was Spot. She recalled the first encounter she had with him and how Jack had indirectly forbade her from seeing him. Why? Because of the way she was right now.

Melancholy, depressed, guilty…And those were just kind words. She had single-handedly alienated the rest of her family, broken loyal trusts with her friends, and turned the political world of the newsies upside down, and for what? All so she could chase the adrenaline rush she craved so much, feel closeness to someone who was off-limits, and be the one secret Spot Conlon would inevitably never keep.

So in the end had it been worth it? She came to and felt her body ache from lying on the floor for so long. Had it been worth all the damages? Worth the bruises that now lined her face and arms and wrists? A whisper of a voice could answer the obvious response -- no -- but she could hardly force herself to say it.

Presently it had been an hour or so since she had woken up. It was an hour of questions and clarity as she replayed her relationship from the first time they met until the last time they touched. Looking back it had all been so painfully obvious…The only reason she could defend her relationship with Spot was because she knew how fragile it was; had she been honest with herself with every sideways glance or up-to-something smile or mysterious disappearance, she would have stood up from that very first dinner and said, "This ain't such a good idea. Let's pretend we don't know each other."

She would have let him walk out of the door of her apartment into the storm that day she came upon him while she was wandering around Manhattan, during the downpour that had sent them inside and she proposed so deviously that they ignite whatever kind of spark they had between them.

But like fire eventually does, it died. It always dies. Whether it's smothered or put out by a stronger element, there is nothing that can keep the flame burning forever.

She rolled over and looked at the kerosene lamp once again. For the first time since David left, she got up. She got to her hands and knees and like a four-legged dog she crawled to the lamp. The sight of her acting like a wounded puppy was completely pathetic, yet that's exactly what she was -- a cowardly, hurt little puppy that had lost the first defining fight in her young and eager life. She looked down through the top of the lamp at the gray and black, little ashes. She got to her feet, picked it up, and made her way to the window.

Oh, the window…

_"Finally. You goin' deaf?"_

_"Throwin' rocks at my window. Are you serious?"_

_He hesitated but replied, "Fine. I'll leave then."_

_"No!" reacted Lucy instinctively. "I mean…What're you doin' here? I thought we were gettin' together Saturday night."_

_"Yeah."_

_"…So…what d'you…want?"_

_"Seriously…?"_

_Lucy laughed. "Alright, I s'pose you can come on up."_

That fucking window.

Her eyes were already too exhausted to cry anymore. Had she not spent half of last evening or the early morning hours crying, she could have started now. But her eyes were so raw and dried up, all she could do was put her hand over her chest to try and keep it from heaving up and down so furiously. She took the lamp and, imagining the spot where he had always stood throwing rocks at her window, she sent it plummeting to a million little pieces into the alleyway. Surely, no fire would ever burn in her apartment ever again. She heaved the window closed and shut the inside shudder boards.

She felt an uncomfortable spot in her dress then. She reached down the bodice and pulled out what the trouble spot was: his hat. Just before she was shoved out of the middle of the fight outside the theater she had picked it up from the ground and stuffed it inside. Why? No clue. But here it was, in her possession, and she had no idea what to do with it. She knew she'd find a proper way to deal with it, but for now, she placed it inside the drawer of her nightstand.

Her bed was another reminder of him but she could hardly toss that out the window. Instead all she could do was stare at the kempt blankets and covers she situated when she had woken up the previous day. _Ironic_, she thought, _how it looks so clean and innocent_.

She so desperately wanted to crawl inside for a few hours -- or a few weeks -- until the heavy black cloud dissipated, but she could not bring herself to do it. Instead, she took the pillow, tossed it and fluffed it and rubbed it clean for a full minute, and went to sleep again on the floor right next to the bed.

She thought of the first infamous night in Brooklyn:

_"Think you can handle another drink, babe?" _

_He presented her with another glass of clear liquid and ice cubes. _

_"Brooklyn special, top-secret recipe. We don't give these out to just anyone."_

_Spot clinked his glass against hers and took a sip. She took a larger gulp than she intended, and it was so strong that her head shook like a spasm at the strength of alcohol. Spot laughed and pulled her into a hug._

_"Aw man, that was too adorable, babe…I feel like I'm corruptin' you…"_

She'll never drink alcohol again.

And the other infamous night in Brooklyn. Where she and Spot had had sex, and the entire time she forced herself to be okay with it; because while on some level she wanted it to happen, deep down it was not the way she had always thought it would be, and he was certainly not the boy she would have wanted that to happen with.

Yet Spot had been that boy and there was no erasing that. She could not swear off that fact the way she could alcohol.

Lucy could not help but tell herself in brutal honesty, _He will always have that. _

Awake again after delving into those memories, she lifted the pillow and stuck her head beneath it. She wanted to forget it all. She wanted to take back ever meeting him in the first place. She wanted to be back in Boston in her orphanage with Ms. Carrigan -- she wanted to reign herself in from her bravery that day she had escaped. Her bravery had blinded her and this was how she was going to suffer from it.

She took the pillow from her head and set it next to her, opting for the hard, wooden surface to lay her head. The world was sideways now. She stared at the wall. For how long? She had no idea. Time seemed to be melting into one long bad dream from which she could not awake.

A round of knocks interrupted her numbing reverie. Her eyes shifted to the door but that was all the movement she made. She cleared her throat but didn't speak. After a minute the door slowly creaked open and hesitantly, David came to stand in her doorway.

She looked him over -- his brown pants, his white shirtsleeves rolled lazily past his elbows, and his suspender straps hanging carelessly from his trousers were all sending the same tone of sleeplessness she had had -- she looked everywhere but his face. She could not bring herself to look at his face. Instead she lay there, silent, unwelcoming, and motionless.

David said nothing either as he walked over and lay down so that his body was directly parallel with hers. He moved the pillow out of the way and mirrored the way Lucy was situated on the floor: on his stomach, arms at his sides, one side of his face pressing against the wood. If he could mirror her body, perhaps he could mirror her emotions.

"Hi," was all he said.

Lucy blinked in response.

"I'm sorry," he added.

She was still mute.

"I was outta line last night. I was just so mad, I…I didn't mean what I said to you. Well, I meant it, it just didn't come out the way I'd hoped."

She felt her eyes become the first part of her all day that had really come to life. They grew with understanding and guilt though she remained silent.

David brought his arms up and crossed them under his face. "I don't know that the floor's the best option. It's cold. And dirty. Why don't you move to the bed?"

Her voice came back to life even if all that came out was a squeak. "I can't."

"Why not?"

Moisture softened her dry eyes. "I just can't."

"Okay. Fair enough. I like the floor, personally…" He rolled over to his back and tucked his hands beneath his head. He crossed his ankles and sighed as though he were just getting comfortable.

Lucy watched him in sheer fascination. In no way had she deserved him being so nice to her.

"Les is sorry he missed out on all the action last night." He scoffed a cynical laugh. "He heard about what happened this morning from all the guys."

"Are any of them dead?"

He rotated his head. "What?"

"The newsies. Are they all still alive?"

"Why would you ask that?"

"Because of Chase."

"Oh…Well, some of them got bruised pretty bad between Chase and Brookl…" he stopped, sounding as though he wanted to stuff the words back into his mouth, "But what else is new? They're tough, they can handle it. No one from Manhattan was sent to the refuge either." He cleared his throat, stared up at the ceiling, and closed his eyes.

Lucy stared at him some more. Her mind was steadily starting to fire up again. "Shouldn't you be at school?"

He simply shook his head. "It's Saturday."

"It is…?"

"Yeah."

She sighed. "It is."

"A long Saturday, to say the least."

She thought of the brawl he had previously described. "I made that happen."

"Made what happen?" He asked with his eyes still closed.

"The fight between Brooklyn and Manhattan."

His eyes opened and he turned to speak truthfully into her pitiful gaze. "Yes."

She moved her head downward and curled up her legs. David was not going to make the landing of this crash painless.

"But so did Spot. He knew what he was doing," he added.

Her stomach flip-flopped and she winced. "Last night? Or all along…"

"I think you know the answer to that."

Suddenly her mind was alive and she remembered what words she had uttered to him so quietly after they had sex in the closet:

_"I don't love you, Spot."_

_"I know."_

_"I hate you."_

_"I know."_

"He knew…" she said almost mutely. "He knew…all along…" Her voice was starting to break.

David watched her with increasingly serious eyes.

"He knew and he still…he still…Oh, god…" Her eyes flooded with tears, the first moisture she had felt in what seemed like days though it had only been hours. She started curling up into a tight ball against the floor as tears ran from the corners of her eyes and she whimpered.

David shifted instantaneously; as soon as the first tear dropped he switched to his stomach and mirrored her body position again.

"Lucy…" He placed his hand on the floor close to her face. "Lucy, get up. Stand up. You're better than this…"

She looked at him for support. It took her a few moments but she summoned up the courage. As she up-righted herself bit by bit to a seated position, David got to his feet. Standing above her he held out his hands and she placed her cold, clammy palms into his.

"That's it…Stand up…"

He pulled her weak, fragile body up to her feet, and as soon as she got there she sank into his supportive, strong embrace. She felt herself become that much less alone in a matter of moments as he secured his arms around her and she wept lightly into his chest. He said nothing, yet not a word needed to be spoken -- the fact that merely his presence had gotten her up off the floor was resonant enough.

"I'm sorry for last night," she sniffled. "I'm sorry for the whole time."

"I know. I know that. If you weren't sorry you wouldn't be here now, you'd be in an alley in Brooklyn where I first found you with him…"

"Oh!" She sobbed even harder.

"I'm kidding! I'm kidding! Sorry, bad timing…" He pulled away and positioned her whimpering face before his. He shook his head and dried her cheeks with his thumbs. "It's okay. You'll be okay."

"I really screwed up."

"Yes. But it's nothing that can't be mended."

"A lot of people are gonna get hurt because of what I did, aren't they?"

He paused. "Yes. What you _and_ Spot did, there'll be some repercussions…"

Lucy gulped and looked down. He was absolutely right, and though she had been telling herself exactly the same thing in the solitude of her apartment all night and day, hearing this dreadful and nerve-racking truth made it a little less bearable.

She started before she could think how to finish, "I am so…"

He looked at her sincerely. "You'll be okay."

* * *

A/N: Aw David :) ten bucks to whoever can figure out the chapter title reference. I will give you a hint: _Twilight._ Haha, these games are fun.


	28. Fix You

"I just can't put into words…why I went for it. Why I kept going back."

Lucy was sitting with her legs crossed and she and David had, bravely, started to talk. They were seated on the floor still with their backs leaning against the edge of the bed. David had his legs bent upward, his arms situated atop them, and he was listening intently to anything Lucy was willing to divulge.

"I don't know what it was about him," she added.

"Well, at the risk of defiling my own masculinity," started David, "I can see why you kept at it."

There was a pause as Lucy thought on that. Then:

"Wait…" he reacted to himself. "That came out a lot worse than it sounds…"

Lucy let slip a brief laugh. Then another. And soon she was truly laughing. David, too, couldn't help but chuckle at his own verbal slip. She enjoyed having the smile on her face and she felt her body loosen up.

"That'll do wonders for my reputation, let's keep that between you and me," he added.

She let the laugh simmer and fade, thankful for its innocent joy.

"But anyway. What I mean to say is the way Spot acts, he's cocky as hell. It's no wonder he has no problem hooking girls in the way he does," finished David.

It still stung her a bit. To know for certain that she was just one of those many girls to him…Well, it was a wound she had trouble stitching up.

"I just keep remembering the first time I saw him…We were at the lodging house and it was poker night on the first night I made it here. I was on the rooftop and I don't know if he followed me there or not…but he was there, we had this weird interaction with each other. It wasn't a typical meeting. To tell you the truth I was pretty put-off by him. He was really rude."

He scoffed. "I'm not surprised."

"The next day he came back to Manhattan and I was with Jack in the lodging house at the time. The interaction between the two 'a them was somethin' else. I'd never seen Jack act that stiff around someone before. Course, I hadn't seen him in six years, but still, Jack's always been open to people for the most part. He told me right off the bat about Spot's reputation. He said, 'You don't need to know him and he don't need to know you.'"

"Ya see? Right there? You got intrigued. You were probably all, 'Who's this mysterious boy, my goodness, he has such an effect on me!' Or something like that. It's how Spot operates, he creates this mystique that keeps people talking. That's all he really wants, people to talk about him and be intimidated by him even when he's not around."

Lucy looked to her side and gave him a weird face; she was still stuck on the high-pitched voice he used to imitate her. For the second time she laughed and it felt just as good. "Probably."

She pulled her knees up to her stomach, resting her chin on them. She retold her dinner with Spot, the way she got "hooked" on him, and the party which led to the hangover that exposed her secret to Sarah. She cited how things took a hard left turn after she told Spot about Sarah. She let the story unfold in itself in David's mind -- she blatantly left out the first time they had sex.

David adjusted his position -- sitting between hard floorboards and the frame of a bed was never really the most comfortable position. And yet, it was a tiny sacrifice for a friend.

"Ya know the saddest part of all?" asked Lucy, and the tone in her voice made it sound as though she truly hated what she was about to tell. She looked at him as he looked back, curious, and she shook her head. "I'd still defend him. Last night I tried to stop Jack from hurting him even though I knew he deserved it. Both of us deserved it. But still I stood between them, begging Jack not to hit him anymore…How pathetic is that?"

"Yeah. I was there. I noticed that but it didn't surprise me."

"It didn't surprise you that I'd act like a stupid little cocker spaniel trying to protect its owner?"

"No, that's not what I meant. I think it's natural to protect the people you're close to…" He paused and as Lucy was starting to reach the hidden message in this statement he added as he turned to look at her, "No matter how hurt you feel."

Lucy turned away, now too afraid to look directly into his eyes. David had made it quite clear that he was angry with her. Perhaps "angry" was not the best choice of words; "disappointed." _Which is worse_, thought Lucy. She had let her secret relationship explode in front of everyone and while the rest of the newsies looked at her with anger, David was the only one who came running to get her. _It's natural to protect the people you're close to…No matter how hurt you feel._

"Did I hurt you, David?"

He sighed and shook his head in a way that made it seem like he did not really want to say it. "I hate what Spot did to you. I blame a lot of this on him. He took advantage of you and the way you felt about him. I think that's what makes me angry."

Lucy wanted to say more. She wanted to hear it straight from David's mouth that she hurt him. It was on the tip of her tongue, too, but the more she looked at David the more she held herself back. He started to fidget his fingers around themselves -- Lucy noticed the similar nervous trait -- and she knew from the way he looked downwards and from the expression on his face that he was hurt but just didn't want to say it.

The sound of footsteps coming up the staircase outside steadily resonated throughout the room. Both of them looked towards the door expectantly, and while David was calm and collected in curiosity to see the visitor would be, Lucy started to recoil inward and was starting to feel the familiar desire to crawl inside a hole and remain there for a very long time.

Without knocking, the door opened with a start. Jack stood between the frame. His face was all but warm and cheerful, and the bruised cheekbone and cut lip certainly did not help to quell Lucy's fear. She scooted back further into her bed frame next to her nightstand and her arms wrapped around her legs tightly.

David did a swift exchange between Lucy and Jack. Without question he got up and started for the door. Lucy glanced from the tops of her eyes as he gave her a small wave. Jack said nothing and nodded to David's leaving. The door closed and for what seemed like ages Jack stood there unmoving, his eyes tired and his tight hands gripping a brown paper bag.

_I'm not gonna talk first, I've got nothing to say that he'll wanna hear_, Lucy's mind raced. She knew she must have looked a nervous wreck for her index finger and thumb started scratching together like they always did when she was anxious.

When Jack finally moved he stepped forward and opened the paper bag in his hand. As he sat down on the ground a good distance from her he dug out a muffin and tossed it to her. "Eat."

Fumbling to catch the pastry she had to break her own secure hold. "I'm not hun--"

"_Eat_," he directed, looking at her intently.

Lucy shoved the muffin messily into her mouth at once. Jack took out a glass bottle of milk and set it next to him, took out a biscuit and tore off a piece with his teeth. It was silent while they ate, and as Lucy nibbled on her breakfast all she wanted to do was say "Thank you" a million times over -- thank you for the breakfast, thank you for not killing her last night, and thank you for acknowledging she still existed.

"Sarah's real upset," he said, breaking the silence.

Lucy gulped. "At me?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I --"

"Mostly with herself, though," he continued as if she had not responded. "She feels guilty she let it get this far."

"Well, that's crazy, it wasn't her fault --"

"I know. That's what I said." His tone pelted her with a little tiny rock every time he spoke. "She can't figure how she could keep a secret from me when it was about you. Obviously you wasn't thinkin' right. Wasn't makin' good decisions."

Lucy shifted uncomfortably.

"She's mad enough for the both of us, no point in me bein' angry with her." He uncapped the milk and took a large gulp.

Since Lucy said nothing in response for a while, Jack leaned forward and pulled open the drawer of the nightstand. Lucy wanted to protest, for that was the exact location of Spot's hat that she had stolen, and only got out a wince. Jack hesitated and shifted his eyes towards her.

"Ya gonna burn it?" he asked, but it was more of a suggestion than a question.

She wanted to laugh but was too afraid. "Somethin' like that."

Jack dug around the various items until he came upon the one thing he had been searching for. It had been tucked safely away in the back of the drawer for Lucy had never wanted anything to happen to it, but the photo of their parents reappeared for the first time in ages. He sat back down to look at it briefly. Lucy watched, curious.

"This," he pointed to their father, "is why she died."

She made a puzzled face. "What?"

"Him. He broke her."

"Literally or…"

"No, he didn't kill her like puttin' his hands on 'er or nothin', but he might as well have."

"What d'you mean?" She could recall the most recent memories she had of their mother stored in the back of her mind. Aside from the way she acted with Lucy, she was always worrisome and a bit depressed, and it was always so obvious she was anxious about one thing for it showed on her face. She, too, had been unable to hide her true emotions.

"He started gettin' hisself involved in drug smuggling. He nevah got hooked on 'em, at least from what I remembah, but he started doin' business with some 'a the kingpins around heah."

"Yeah, I remember that. I remember after she was gone how we used to help doin' his 'business' by making those deliveries. Nobody'd suspect a couple 'a kids runnin' drugs across town, right?" She stretched her legs out before her and could not help but laugh for a brief moment. "I remember our code names in case we were ever caught, we weren't supposed to act like we knew him and we weren't his kids. Evie Baxter. Jack Kelly."

Jack let slip a self-deprecating laugh as well. "Shoulda stayed Evie. Bettah name. Dangerous. More infamous."

Lucy groaned a slow chuckle at the accusation -- she already felt like a criminal, she needed no secret identity to prove that. "Jack's a way better name than Francis, though. Glad you kept it."

"You an' me both…But anyway. You need to know how he broke her. She kept askin' him to stop the drug business 'cause we was so young, she didn't want him goin' to jail. She more told him to stop, actually. She was nevah scared to stand up to him. Or anyone, fer that matter --"

"Sounds familiar," she interrupted, taking a moment to reference the strike he had successfully led.

Jack could not help but relish for the shortest moment. "I guess. But this happened for about a year. He wouldn't stop. He kept gettin' more money but she didn't want it. She just wanted money for rent, that's it. They hated each other for a real long time. He'd stay out all night and be gone fer days. Treated her like she was a dog 'cause she'd still stay with him, she had to 'cause of us. But she kept gettin' real angry with him and all but when he wouldn't listen she just gave up. It started drainin' her."

Lucy could remember some of these details, for she could so vaguely make out glimpses of memories in her mind. She had been so young. She added to the story, "Then she got sick."

"He was nevah home. He probably didn't even notice."

_Until she died_, thought Lucy. Neither one of them had said it but it was there. Lucy had no recollection of this. Or perhaps she had and she just blocked it from her memory for it was probably far too painful to rehash. But Jack must have known and remembered, for the look on his face -- the combination of brutal truth and anger that glazed over his eyes -- made him look a little bit lost in the memory. _Yes_, she decided. _He remembered it well._

"I don't know if ya knew that or not," he said, and he was broken from his reverie. "But now ya do."

Lucy nodded. She looked down and traced the seams of her dress. It was purple, just as her mother had always said she always wanted as a four-year-old. "Why'd ya tell me?"

"'Cause ya need to know."

"Yeah, but…why choose now…to tell me?" She hesitated the question because she was too afraid that if she was too forward or too pushy it would seem she was ungrateful for his presence, and he would get frustrated and leave. She did not want him to leave; she was terrified of being alone.

Jack scratched his head and closed his eyes for a moment. He tensed up in the slightest way. "Because you ain't our mother."

She gulped. "I beg to differ…" She could have cried right then because now, at the present time and more than ever, she felt completely weak and broken by a boy. She was just lucky, she thought, that she wasn't sick.

"No, Lucy," he reprimanded. "You ain't gonna break down and give up because 'a this. I won't let you."

"A lotta things happened because of me --"

"I know that, you know that, we all know that. We ain't gonna dwell on it. Yeah, ya screwed shit up. A lot. And I gotta pay for it, I gotta clean it up --"

"You shouldn't have to --"

"Yeah, I do! I _do_ have to. I don't want to but I'm gonna fix this. You'se the only family I got left, I'm gonna fix you. Didja seriously think I was gonna disown you, pretend like you ain't heah and you ain't my sistah?"

Lucy's heart had started beating nervously and she gave a weak shrug. "Yeah, kinda."

Jack scoffed and shook his head. He got up from his seat and placed the photograph of their parents on the nightstand. He left the milk on the floor and the bag he had brought -- it was filled with muffins and bread. Lucy repressed a grateful smile.

He stopped to take a look at the mirror on her wall on his way out, inspecting the brand new bruises and cuts. "At least I won," he said with a dry laugh.

Lucy started to grin.

Jack looked back with a very small, very sly smile. "Knocked his lights out."

She broke a fragile laugh. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah," he said proudly with still a hint of restraint. He started to shut the door on his way out but opened it back again to add smugly, "If ya evah see 'im again, ask 'im just one thing.'

"What?"

"How good he slept in the refuge."

* * *

**A/N:** Oh Coldplay. How I love thee. I know I have thanked you all a trillion times now for reviewing, but I have to ask you for one itsy bitsy favor: kindly direct yourself to my profile and vote in the poll at the top of the page? It's a topic I have struggled with ever since the story's first brainstorm (before I even had the names!!) and I would love to get your honest opinion, since you know Lucy the best! It would help tremendously. Thanks much.


	29. Release

It was not until Sunday afternoon that Lucy finally took off the dress she had been wearing since Friday. She peeled herself out of it as if shedding a layer of skin. Letting the feeling of that night go was much harder than one would think -- it's quite easy to remain in the doldrums, much easier than you would think. Strength, in Lucy's mind, was a commodity.

Nevertheless, she stood in her slip dress as she looked down at the heap of tainted clothing at her feet.

After a long, cold bath scrubbing away the filth, she situated herself in front of the mirror. _Hello stranger_, it was as if she said to her reflection. She ran her eyes over her makeup-less face, her pale skin, and her slowly drying hair that was now inching towards her belly button it was getting so long.

She was fixed on her hair. It was still wet. Which meant it was crimping into loose curls.

_"Your hair curls when you're in the rain." He let his fingers dance around her now chocolate-colored hair._

_"…Is that good or bad?"_

_"Good." He tucked the hair behind her ear. "Always good."_

She almost let the memory snap her in two, but she refused. She got up, marched over to her nightstand, and took out an object that glistened when she tilted it every which way.

She plopped back down in front of the mirror. Back straight. Certain. She divided her hair into two sections on either side of her face. She took the pair of scissors in her hand and grabbed the first chunk.

_Snip._

Release. She refused to blink and grabbed some more hair.

_Snip._

Release.

_Snip._

Release.

And so it went, this pattern of machine-like labor that strand by strand, set her free. She waited to stop and think until she was finished, and when she did she looked like a different person altogether. Her chestnut hair that so easily made Spot enamored of her was almost gone. It danced along the tops of her shoulders as she turned her head from side to side looking at the finished product with incredible euphoria. She didn't care how others would think of the new 'do; Spot would never be spellbound again by her in this way.

As she placed the scissors back into the nightstand drawer, she looked at Spot's hat and paused. It was still sitting there like a stain still ruining her life, a spot she could never fully rid herself of. _Perhaps that's where his name came from…_

She came back to reality when her memory reminded her that Jack had asked if she was keeping his hat there to burn it. She had no intention of burning the building down, especially at Spot's expense, so instead, she came up with a better idea. She sat down in the same place where she had chopped off her hair and went to work.

_Snip._

Release.

_Snip._

Release.

Monday came in swiftly and Molly said nothing to Lucy when she arrived for work. They remained unspeaking to each other for the entire day. Lucy worked doubly hard and doubly fast, and it made Molly stop and wonder what had made her so efficient. _Men_, she had thought to herself easily. _Good for business._

While Lucy stitched and sewed and pulled and cut, her concentration was half on her speedy labor and half on the resentful thoughts that fueled her. With every rip and tear she sewed back together she envisioned Spot making those damages and it made her so furious that she ended up completing two days' worth of work before five o'clock. Naturally, Molly did not complain and sent her home for the day.

The sense of accomplishment put an extra boost in Lucy's step, and she was going to need it, for she was about to make her way to the Jacobs's apartment for dinner. Just outside the shop she stopped, pausing nervously. She wanted to go back home and come back out. She wasn't ready.

She gulped. _Now or never._

She made it halfway there in faux courage -- she could hardly say Lucy Sullivan at the present time was a courageous person because in all honesty she could not say that if Spot suddenly appeared she would be strong enough to walk away. She knew she would not forgive him in the blink of an eye, but it was too hard to say she would walk away from him altogether.

As she neared the Jacobs's block, a congregation of boys made her stop in her tracks. Gasping, she was just about to turn and run in the other direction when one of them spotted her.

"Well, look who it is, boys."

Racetrack's tone was so severe she hardly recognized it. As he nodded in her direction, the rest of the boys -- Skittery, Blink, Mush, Boots, and Specs -- shifted their gazes as they turned. Her eyes flew to Blink, for his arm was bandaged up; and Boots, his left eye was swollen shut; and Specs, he had a limp.

"You'se caused enough trouble fer us, keep on walkin'!" called Skittery.

Lucy looked down and rotated her frozen body in the other direction, taking baby steps.

"Nice hair!"

"Yeah, Spot say he likes it that way?"

"Spot says 'cut,' you'se say 'how much?'!"

"Nah, it's easier to fool people this way, right?"

They erupted in laughter as Lucy all but sprinted down the street. Her face was breaking as she choked for air and fortunately, just in time, Jack appeared and stopped her in her tracks. He grabbed her arms and she buried her face in her hands, mortified.

"What happ…You cut your hair?"

She bobbed her head up and down in her hands.

"Oh…Looks good…" He paused, and Lucy knew he was forcing the compliment. "What's goin' on, why you cryin'?"

"Nothing. Let's just go, alright?" She started to walk but Jack held his arm out to stop her. He wheeled her around.

"Jack, please, can we just go? Please? Please…"

He studied her face and pleading eyes with suspicion. He must have heard the boys laughing behind her, as all he did was glare at them icily and they stopped. He turned and they started to leave the scene, walking to the Jacobs's apartment in silence.

As soon as they got there, Lucy moved her shortened hair in front of her face and ducked behind Jack. Sarah came to the door nearly two seconds after Jack knocked. She gave Jack a brief greeting, ushered him inside, and shut the door behind her as she stepped out into the hallway. She gave Lucy a sympathetic smile as Lucy slowly straightened herself up into a more dignified stance. It comforted her a little that Sarah looked more concerned rather than angry with her.

"I cut my hair."

"I see that."

"I wanted to make sure he never plays with it again."

Sarah nodded in clarity, "_Oh. _That makes sense." She started to smile warmly and gave Lucy a hug.

Esther gave Lucy exactly the same treatment and gave her an even tighter hug upon her arrival. Nobody said anything about Friday night or why she took a pair of scissors to her long, wavy locks, and instead encouraged her to take a seat, get comfortable, and eat as much food as she could fit in her stomach. For the first time Lucy felt at ease with her situation and lost the feelings of hopeless solitude and isolation, for there was more evidence to the contrary than she could ever really hope for.

David was not as over-the-top polite as his other family members, yet Lucy respected this. After dinner the two of them stepped out onto the fire escape. It took a while for Lucy to generate the memory she had of their last meeting here -- it had been just after a thunderstorm and David had said how much he enjoyed the scent of rain. Lucy had been busy letting the intoxicating fragrance remind her of Spot and how, ironically, he had been so obsessed with her hair.

"I have a feeling I'll regret this in a couple days," said Lucy.

"What?"

"My hair."

"Oh." He shifted his arms from the railing. "Maybe not. It's therapeutic."

Lucy wrinkled her face and grabbed the longest strand she could find. "Better be."

David laughed. After a few moments he turned back around and leaned against the railing, situating his arms over his chest. "So…Some things've happened with the guys I think you should know about."

Lucy turned and mimicked, subconsciously, his exact stance and posture. "I already know they hate me, I don't need the verbatim dialogue. Spare me, I can't take it."

"No, it's not that." He fumbled for the right words and scratched his head. "This thing now, it's bigger than we thought. Chase actually backed down, knowing he couldn't stand up to Jack and Spot as two separate rivals. He's just given up."

Lucy snorted a nervous, scared laugh at the irony. "Ya think it had anything to do with my 'fighting' skills?"

He chuckled, remembering how Lucy kicked him directly in the groin. He winced at the flashback. "Maybe…But we're meeting with Brooklyn in a few days for discussion, assuming Spot's made it out of the refuge alright…"

Lucy snorted a laugh. "God, I love that…"

David chuckled too but got back to business easily. "We're gonna try to negotiate with them."

"_Negotiate?_"she repeated, alarmed. "What's there to negotiate?"

"Lots 'a things. You wouldn't think so but there is. Right now it's just a free-for-all. Guys're coming here, we're going over there, the injuries are starting to get worse --"

"Worse? All this started Friday night, how could things've gotten so bad so fast?" She gestured frantically, her arms and hands waving, giving away her obviously increasing panic.

"You'd be surprised," he answered truthfully. "This is Manhattan against Brooklyn. No other gang's backing up either side out of fear. Some guys are pretty banged up, on our side and theirs. But don't panic. Nobody's gotten seriouslyhurt so far. Things are just…kicking up a notch. So Jack and I, we're going to sort it all out civilly before things get worse. Nobody wants this getting out of control."

Lucy scoffed and thought of Spot's viciousness. "I doubt it." She looked back up to David's serious and honest eyes, and muttered an apology at once.

"Don't apologize. You're fine."

"So, what, are you gonna stage one big fight and get it over and done with?"  
"We'll see what Spot says. I have a feeling it's gonna get ugly in that meeting."

"Yeah…" she groaned.

He placed his hand on her shoulder and shook it encouragingly.

* * *

After Jack walked her straight up to her apartment that night and told her, yet again, what to do in case someone would try and break in, Lucy sat in front of the mirror to gather together the mess she had made earlier on the floor. Between the chunks of brown hair and the remnants of Spot's hat, she had to laugh before she let it make her cry.

Then unexpectedly, a couple of knocks clapped against the door. She assumed it was either Jack or David, for they were the only two who had been making house calls lately.

Yet when she opened the door, unprepared and unsuspecting, she could hardly believe who her visitor was.

"Hi."

"…Hi…"

* * *

A/N: I was going to combine this chapter with the next...but you're just going to have to wait haha but really, it would have been far too long and I want to finish this story as much as you, so I'll be updating super duper fast. Two chapters after this! You can thank me by reviewing :) Oh and a HUGE thank you to all those who voted in my poll! You ROCK.


	30. Bravery

Lucy could practically hear air drop as she stood at her doorway, her hand frozen against the doorknob. In shock, she looked at Spot.

"Hi," was all he said. He stood with his hands at his sides dangling stiffly with bloodied knuckles and dark bruises. His face was in poor shape as well; painful displays of Jack's fist marked him with a red and purple cheek, and beneath his right eye was a dark black bruise.

She hated herself for thinking this, but he still was as handsome as she ever thought.

Lucy gulped. She felt her knees wobble. "…Hi…"

The first thing that came into her mind was asking him the smartass question of how he'd slept in the refuge. _Ask him, you know you want to_, her evil side said. It was on the tip of her tongue, begging to be asked, but she could not do it.

The more she looked at him the more helpless he seemed just from appearance and she wanted to ask how the refuge went out of genuine concern. The thought flickered into her mind, _Should I take care of him? _After all, he did look awful. _Perhaps he feels bad for how everything played out and wanted to discuss what it all meant._

But she looked into his hard, shallow eyes and callous depths and the guilt started to simmer.

"You got somethin' 'a mine," he stated evenly, coldly.

_Oh_, she faltered. _Well, I'm an idiot. _She selfishly thought he was here to deliver an apology. She started to open the door instead but repositioned herself. She placed a trembling fist on her hip defiantly. "What d'you want?"

Wordlessly he glanced above him at his hair. It was messy and dirty in a shaggy, unkempt way, and she realized by his arrogant lack of speech that he could only mean he was referring to his signature grey hat. Lucy concealed the laugh starting to rumble deep inside her. She shook her head and made a confused face at him.

"I'm sorry? D-Didn't catch that." _Bravery_, she encouraged, _Don't back down._

"My hat, Lucy, I want my fuckin' hat," he replied quickly, his voice elevating.

The jump in volume made her jump a little and she held up a finger. She shut the door and gave herself a moment collect her thoughts. _Breathe, do not let him make you feel worse, do not give him that power over you. Breathe, breathe, breathe. _

She tucked pieces of her hair behind her ears, remembering she could go through this with more will power now that she had cut most of it off. She bent down and looked at the mess of grey fabric pieces mixed in with the dead pieces of hair; they seemed like puzzle pieces.

Her courage eyed the biggest piece of fabric, a sliver that stretched no longer than the palm of her hand. She stared down at the remnant, its stitching loose and fraying at the edges.

She was feeling the rush now.

She was about to make Spot very, very mad.

She opened the door swiftly and held out the shred of fabric between her thumb and forefinger the way you would a dirty piece of laundry. A hint of a smirk made its way onto her face. "It's the biggest piece I could find."

For a split moment Spot's tense façade broke and his lips parted in disbelief. "What…"

"You can borrow some thread and a needle…if you wanna try and stitch it back together…"

"I…You…"

"What was that --"

"_Bitch!_"

He smacked his hand against the doorframe hard causing Lucy to wince in fear. Her courage started to wane but she pulled it back up again, refusing the desire to apologize and drop to her knees before him.

His exterior wall was shattered now, his true emotions starting to erupt as he held his trembling hands near his face and he paced stomping around the cramped hallway. Lucy brought her hands together in front of her and looked down. She jumped every time he grunted too loudly or hit his arm against the wall; it was a temper she had never seen in him before now.

"You'se a real _cunt_, you know that?" he spat, spinning to face her and pointing his finger in her face.

She swerved her head backward and smacked his hand away. "Then what's that make you, huh?"

"I dunno, you tell me!" He stepped forward, dangerously close to her and she had to look up at him, for he lingered just above her head and his body was moving towards her so much she was frightened.

For the briefest moment she expected him to kiss her but there was this inexplicable force inside her that repelled him.

She spoke passionately, "You're a spineless, manipulative son of a bitch who can't tell the truth if your life depended on it."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Right back atcha, sweetheart! You was the one tellin' me we weren't gonna tell nobody!"

Lucy made a confused face.

"You kissed _me_, you tempted _me_. This whole thing was your idea, remembah?"

Suddenly she remembered they were standing in the exact same spot they had the first time they kissed and started their devious relationship.

But it wasn't her fault. Without thinking on it, only reacting through instinct, she shouted angrily:

"You manipulated me the entire time, Spot! How dare you blame everything on me when you knew what you were doing all along!"

"What was that, huh? What was I doin' then?!"

"You couldn't handle Jack being better than you so you had to bring him down! You had to go behind his back to prove you're still untouchable and you made me believe everything you did to me was the truth! That you really, truly wanted to be with me, it was all bullshit!"

"That's how it went? That's what you think went down?"

"I know that's what --"

"Well, if that's the case why'd ya hook up with me in the first place? If ya knew I was the bad guy to begin with, why'd ya evah invite me back heah, come with me to Brooklyn, let me do all this 'dishonest behavior' you'se talkin' about, and why didn't ya stop me?"

"Because -- I -- wanted to believe it!"

"But ya didn't! Ya just said, ya knew all along that --"

"I wouldn't admit it to myself -- I knew you were bad for me, I knew you were somethin' I shouldn't get tangled with --"

"So ya admit it? That ya lied to yourself?"

"Yes, but --"

"_Real_ honest there, Lucy. Way to speak the truth you claim I don't got the power to do!"

Lucy was silenced. He was absolutely right and she had nothing to back herself up as he continued:

"You stand there tellin' me I'm the only one whose lyin', that I'm this manipulative bastard who can't be honest to save my soul, but what kinda pathetic person lies to their own self like that? You obviously knew somethin' wasn't sittin' right with you when this all started, so you had the option 'a walkin' away when you had the chance but ya didn't. You'se the bad guy just as much as me."

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared daggers into his eyes, hoping they alone could shatter him the way he had broken her. He shifted from his hard stance and started to walk away.

"It ain't my fault ya stayed," he spoke lowly and he began to turn down the hallway, "it's yours."

A rage in Lucy unleashed at his last words and she spun him around and pushed him back against the wall. "Don't you _dare_ tell me this is all my fault! Don't you dare! Yes -- I told you we should start this thing. Yes -- I kissed you. No -- I didn't walk away. But are you so blind to think everything you did wouldn't affect me? Answer me this then, how d'you explain what I said to you onstage last Friday when I said I was fallin' for you? You don't think that's honesty right there?"

"You --"

"No!" She shoved him hard. "I'm not finished!"

He said nothing, his hands now in the air defenselessly. She continued:

"You don't think everything I did didn't take guts? Think about everything I had to risk just to see you! Because I thought you were worth it! Going behind everyone's backs, lyin' to my brother, I thought you were worth that risk! I thought what we had was real. But now I see as clear as ever that I was completely and utterly wrong because the day I look at you and _honestly_ think you're a good person, a respectable person, a person who actually deserves the respect that you so desperately and pathetically need, is a day I'll never, _ever_ live to see!"

There was silence. Lucy, no longer fearful, waited a moment to glare finally into his unspeaking face, a face that suddenly had nothing to say, a face that had forfeited its own defense at the unexpected bravery and honesty. Before he let himself be vulnerable he slowly grabbed her wrists from his shirt but she shook his hands away herself and stepped backward.

"You're not half the person Jack is and you never will be. You can't even compare to him or David, so just give it up and accept who you really are -- a pathetic bastard who can't go a day without someone kissin' his ass."

She turned her back on him and slammed her apartment door shut.

His mouth went dry and his mind was blink. Had that just happened? Had a girl he had been tangled with gone that far? No girl had ever spoken such words to him in his life. He didn't want to admit it…but he was speechless. He had nothing further to say to Lucy. And so, with his head a little lower than you would ever expect, Spot Conlon left Lucy's apartment from the first fight he ever lost.

* * *

A/N: Ouch! That crumbling sound? That's Spot's ego. Haha. So what's going to happen in the last chapter?! How's this all going to end? Is it really the end? Is Lucy doomed forever to walk the streets like Hester Prynne? What about the big Brooklyn vs. Manhattan fight? Was it all a dream?! Am I leading you on with all these questions? Theories please :)


	31. Something Else

After her triumph, Lucy rode the wave of adrenaline and victory for the next few days in sheer delight. She gained the power to get back into her bed and get a good night's sleep. The best part was that instead of smelling Spot's distinctive, intoxicating scent in her sheets, she smelled David. He had rested on her pillows when he came to see her, and breathing him in, she knew, was far better for her than Spot.

She was not whole and healed completely, and in truth she new she never would be, but for the time being it was a significant step forward to her recovery. She released the emotions Spot had made her feel, during their relationship and afterward, and it was as though a demon flew straight out of her stomach.

Her mind was a different entity, though. Half of her days were spent revolving around him, whether they centered around the laughs, the sex, the pain, or the fight. He was still there somehow and he always would be. Lucy may have kicked the habit of Spot Conlon but there were still plenty of wounds -- inside and out -- that would remain forever.

Then there was the issue of the battle between Manhattan and Brooklyn. She had still yet to make amends with the boys she once considered her family. She was still too fearful of how they would treat her, for the insults they had slugged in her direction were enough to make her feel the roller coaster of guilt all over again. She wanted to shake them so hard until they believed how sorry she was for the whole thing but she knew it was best for her own insanity to just let it be.

She could hardly spend forever going back to feeling guilty, so she tried her best to keep her head held high. Though it was painfully difficult, she put the emotions she felt towards the Manhattan newsies in a metaphorical jar onto a metaphorical shelf, for that was the only way she could properly deal with them. In time, she had to trust, they would come around to forgive her; those who were not willing to do so were never really deserving of her friendship, or at least that is how she figured it. It took a great deal of mental capacity to fully understand and accept this fact -- her actions were irrevocable.

So she found her source of comfort in other ways -- in Jack, David, and the rest of the Jacobs family. She swapped the time she had once occupied with Spot for time with Sarah and Esther, helping around the house and being in their good company. Without this kind of company, she was unable to navigate the murky waters of relationships and broken hearts. She had done that on her own. She learned that the hard way. She never wanted to go without that kind of presence.

And so it would seem that Lucy kicked her addiction entirely. She was on her road to being one hundred percent clean. Yet there was one last thing that would test her strength and will power: the meeting between the leaders of Brooklyn and Manhattan. She had known it was coming and she knew she wanted to somehow be witness to it.

Obviously, there was no way she would be allowed in the actual room. Lord knows what mayhem would ensue as result of that. So she and Les had sneakily gathered all the information of the discussion -- exactly who was going to attend, when it was going to be, where they would be located. She felt a little dishonest going behind their backs for this, but she rested peacefully on the fact that it was nothing compared to the damage she had already done.

"Can you see 'em?" asked Lucy just above a whisper.

They were in the smallest alley she had ever seen and it was tucked away between two restaurants she hardly recognized. Les was crawling his way down the wall and peeking behind the corner, peering in through the windows.

"Yeah, yeah! I see 'em!"

"What're they doing, who's there?"

"Jack and David on one side 'a the table…Spot and another guy on the other. Obviously is second-in-command…"

Lucy scoffed disgustedly. She could picture the second boy in her mind and she hated the image she saw. "Well, where are they, are they close?"

"Not real close."

"Well, can you hear 'em at least?"

"No."

Lucy threw her hands up with impatience. She rubbed her temples and centered herself. _Calm down_, her inner self instructed. She listened and folded her hands in front of her. She lurked around the building corner and took a look inside. There they were. All four boys. Just as she pictured them. She muttered obscenities at the sight of the Brooklyn boys. Her eyes flickered away and she saw a window near their table.

"Les…" She instructed him in detail that he needed to provide a distraction. She was going to slip across the restaurant since the windows in front were huge, into the alley on the other side of the building, and stand just beneath the window to eavesdrop on their discussion.

Les nodded sternly. He rushed inside and hurried to the leaders' table. Lucy peered inside and watched David's annoyed expression and the rest of the boys watch the little newsie. She made a break for it and sprinted across the windows and skidded into the alley. She slammed her back against the brick directly beneath the window. She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard David say, "Les, go. You can't be here."

As she heard Les's quick footsteps exit the restaurant, Lucy felt her heart start pumping. She felt the delicious taste of adrenaline trickling through her bloodstream at the nearness to danger. She reigned it in a little, sure not to get too carried away this time, and listened. She could make out the voices so clearly:

"So, anyway…" started Jack. His voice was strong. Profound.

"Kelly, we wanna cut to the chase." That was the second-in-command, she was certain. "We ain't interested in playin' fair. None 'a you'se guys were playin' fair last week at Medda's, what makes ya think it's okay now?"

"The point is, we're not stupid. We know how much of a threat Brooklyn is," began David in a calm and serious manner.

The second-in-command scoffed and Lucy pictured a smirk. Spot was silent.

"But that doesn't mean we can't take it, don't twist my words around," scathed David in response. "Manhattan isn't fooling around either. We won't back down and give up. That's not what we plan to do."

"So what's the point, then, huh? Why're we even heah?" asked Spot's assistant.

Lucy was downright shocked to hear Spot was strangely mute throughout the discussion. Perhaps he decided to stay the strong, silent type this time -- even though that was just as chilling. Spot, she knew for a fact, could send shivers up the spine of even the most daring person just by looking at them.

"Because we ain't gettin' carried away this time," said Jack. "We ain't gonna stand by and watch boys from both sides get picked off left an' right. Now if it's a fight you want, it's a fight you'se gonna get but --"

"Obviously that's what we want, Kelly --"

"Then let's settle this with one big rumble. Huh? One big finale to set it all on fire, one stand to determine who's the winner. Whadda ya say?"

"It's a culmination. This is the cleanest way to do it. A gentleman's way to do it," added David.

Silence. Lucy wondered if her hearing was shot for a moment. She wanted to hear the second-in-command's reaction, let alone Spot's. Spot was still silent. It was as though he wasn't even there. She heard Les trotting towards her in the alley making all kinds of noise. She smacked her hand to cover his mouth at once.

_Why wasn't Spot saying anything?!_

"It's gonna lead up to this anyway, let's just get the point, ya know?" said Jack in the absence of speech from Brooklyn's side of the table.

Lucy heard the two opposing boys mutter to each other but she still could not hear Spot's voice, not even a whisper and she was very familiar with what it sounded like at low volume. It was his second-in-command still doing all the talking. She stepped up to her toes to get a better listen. Spot's partner scoffed angrily at his lack of speech and spoke for the both of them.

"I donno about that, Jack," the Brooklyn boy began.

David and Jack sighed in unison and shifted in their seats. Lucy could hear the tension building faster now.

"C'mon, at least give it a minute," said Jack, his voice straining to keep cool.

"Look, Kelly, we'se bein' real patient with ya heah --"

"Just scrap it."

Lucy felt her nerves jump at the new voice. It was Spot.

His partner fumbled for words. "What? Spot --"

Lucy covered her mouth to keep silent the gasp itching to get out. Had she heard that correctly? Spot had just said, "Scrap it," did he not? Was that a new term she was unfamiliar with? Scrap?  
"Finish it. Stop it," he added.

Another muffled gasp.

"No, no, no --"

"_Yes_. Let it go." His voice was intense in a subdued sort of way, low in volume but with just as much passion.

"Wait, what are you saying here, Spot?" asked David.

She heard Spot get up from the table. "I'm sayin' there's nothin' to fight for."

His second-in-command was audibly speechless, making stuttered noises and fractions of words, for Lucy as well was just as stunned to hear what conversation was taking place. That _was _Spot, wasn't it? Her eyes had not deceived her? _Finish it. Stop it. _She was not going crazy or having delusions -- those were the words Spot Conlon most definitely uttered.

David and Jack were silent, disbelieving.

"Hold on, Spot, let's stop and think about this…" the second-in-command pleaded.

Spot sighed a painful sigh. His next words were in the same low, intense voice. "I screwed this boy's little sister and spent a night in the refuge for it. I'm sayin' there's nothin' left to fight for." His heels turned and his footsteps towards the door resounded through the silent restaurant and in Lucy's eardrums.

"What was _that_?" asked Les, in just as much shock, if not more, as Lucy.

"I…" she started.

There were no words. Lucy rotated her head towards the street. She saw Spot passing by the alley. She did not think but she made a break for it tearing down the narrow space and into the street. His walk was deliberate and a little fast but she ran after him.

"Spot…" She tugged at his shoulder.

He turned around and only for a split second did his silvery, intense eyes match with hers. He started to dart his gaze every which way to avoid looking at her. He put his hands hard at his hips and he rocked uneasily between awkward stances and strained facial expressions.

Lucy could hardly form words. Those quick movements, those awkward muscle twitches and visible tension only meant that he felt nervous. Anxious. Guilty. She knew because she had exhibited every bit of them in her own right during the relationship and the recovery period thereafter.

"You…Why did…" she started, her limps trembling.

"Well -- You said -- You nevah thought you'd see the day," he spoke through labored breaths. He was so tense about what he had just done, she could register every strand of internal conflict laced with his outwardly frazzled exterior.

"See what day?"

"That I'm an honorable bastard. Ya happy now?"

She gulped. "You did this…for me?"

"No," he was quick to reply. "Not for you. I wasn't ready to risk war for you. I did this…Look, you can't always win everything, right?"

Part of her wanted to reach out to him. She refused to believe he was not doing this for her -- sure, he was not going to go and fight for her to claim her. He was not going to fight to defend her honor. He was backing down to defend _his_ honor. It was his honor that she, in every right, had shot down when she stood up to him and let 'er rip in her apartment. Her words, the very essence of her soul and the fiber of her being, had shaken him to his core.

"No," she finally responded. "You're right, you can't always win."

She never thought in a million years that this would be possible. So you could imagine the blackest kind of satisfaction Lucy selfishly felt at seeing him affected so strongly by what she said.

She reached out and placed a hand on his arm, his trembling bicep that was still warm and strong in her gentle grasp.

He stopped fidgeting. He looked down at her hand and caught his breath.

"Spot."

He brought his other arm up and gripped her wrist. It didn't hurt her. Nothing he could do now would hurt her. She let go of his arm and their hands made their way to each other, their fingers intertwining in the slightest way, and their hands fell into the space -- the significant rift between them -- until they each let go.

He finally looked up at her, his eyes that were once so powerful and magnetic to her, were far less spectacular. He eyed the new length of her hair, his expression unmoving. He brought his hand up and ran through the short strands slowly, sending tiny little shivers shooting up and down Lucy's spine. She closed her eyes and grabbed his hand. She paused a moment to feel his last touch and pulled it away from her face.

She felt her hand catch the cool, barren breeze once his hold on her was released.

She was free from him.

"Take care 'a yourself, Lucy."

She gulped. "You too."

In a slow motion moment, like Lucy's world was put on hold for just this moment, Spot kept his eyes locked with hers as he turned around.

She was too stunned to speak or let her eyes flicker anywhere else. She forced herself to watch him leave until slowly but surely he was gone, lost in the streets and in the crowds of people. It was an image she knew she would never let go, this photo in her mind of him walking away.

"What exactly did you do to him?"

Lucy came back down to Earth for good now, her feet planted safely on the ground.

David's voice swirled into her ears. She stuttered slowly she turned back around. "I can't exactly say. I'm not so sure myself."

The air was clearer now that the intoxicating force of Spot's presence that once constricted her so powerfully was gone from her lungs.

Despite the vulnerability Spot had just shown to Lucy, she felt he was still an enigma. The part of Spot she always wanted to see, the deepest point of him, was only glimpsed by the act of defeat he had executed. She wondered how long he must have stayed up wrestling with that decision, going over Lucy's words again and again and again, driving him to lose his mind and question his own sanity. For the first time, he surrendered Brooklyn because he knew that honor was the only thing he could never achieve.

"I can't even speak…" said Lucy, throwing her hands up at her loss for words. "I'm still in so much shock. Spot Conlon, he really forfeited this fight?"

David nodded. "Yes."

"I affected him that much," she confirmed, a hint of question still intertwined in her voice.

He sighed, a smile starting to crack on his face. "Apparently so."

She gently placed her fingertips over her mouth. "I am so…"

David breathed a careful laugh. He curled a piece of her chestnut brown hair behind her ear, the same place Spot had touched, and finished her broken statement, "You are somethin' else."

She smiled a weary, broken smile. He placed his arm around her shoulders and they made their way back towards the restaurant.

Not once did Lucy look back where Spot had walked. Not at the street, not at the Brooklyn Bridge which she could still see in the distance. It was always there, though, the Brooklyn Bridge. And as long as the territory had a name and reputation, Spot would always be there too.

Only now…Now it would hang its head for a moment in defeat because Spot had been significantly moved, for the first time in his life, by a girl.

Lucy could not say she affected his heart. No, certainly not the heart; she could not take credit for that. They had had an intense infatuation and merely that, yet she had grazed his soul, his essence of being, like a bullet and struck him the way he struck her.

Jack was standing against a wooden pole outside the restaurant. His face was still in utter surprise at the sudden twist of events, but he looked at Lucy and shook his head. He wanted to smile and laugh as though everything was going to go back to normal but he could not. He placed his signature black hat atop his head with a complacent smile about his face, for now things were different and he accepted that.

The Manhattan boys were starting swarm in now, all so very quickly in the know about what had happened, how Lucy in a change of current had managed to save them from a disastrous war with the most feared territory in New York. Their faces were different now. Racetrack, Blink, Mush, Skittery, Specs, Boots, all of them -- their attitudes changed. For this girl -- as David had told her -- was something else. She was their sister. This realization echoed clearly through everyone's thoughts.

Lucy labored a laugh in the presence of these boys but eventually it started to feel natural again. Her addiction may have surged through her veins for the longest time, damaging and weakening her to the point of giving up entirely, but there still remained that very simple thought: blood runs thick. Her family -- Jack, David, the Jacobs', the Manhattan newsies -- ran thick in her veins. No addiction, no matter how irrevocable, could ever change that.

"You hungry, Luce?" asked David at the table.

"_Yes._"

"Good. This one's on me."

Racetrack tossed a cigar her way. "Smoke up, kid."

Jack laughed and shook his head. He took the cigar from her setting, knowing full well she would not smoke it. As he struck a match to the Cuban he nudged her and asked in a voice very low, for Jack hardly relished in sentimental moments, "Ya fixed now? Gonna be okay?"

Lucy inhaled and sighed thoroughly. "Yeah."

And then the thought came to her mind as the feeling settled comfortably inside her, Lucy was finally free from the drug that was Spot Conlon. Whole, healed, clean. Free.

**THE END**

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**A/N:** Sigh. Thanks for sticking with me for the whole story. Thank you all a million times over for your reviews and support!


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